Fate Worse Than Death
by nosleep3
Summary: New Moon AU, E/B. After Edward leaves her, Bella's haze and her danger magnet lead her down a path of abandonment, insanity, and the very edge of death. How do the pieces of her life fit back together again? Full summary inside.
1. The Haze

Fate Worse Than Death

**Summary:** New Moon AU. After Edward leaves her, Bella's haze and her danger magnet lead her down a path of abandonment, insanity, and the very edge of death. How do the pieces of her life fit back together again? A tale of salvation, family, fear, recovery, forgiveness, justice, and mercy.

**Pairing:** E/B  
**Rating:** M for Mature, including language and descriptions of abuse  
**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. All other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name.  
**A/N:** Special thanks to sirah87 for beta services and always being willing to hash stuff out with me!  
This chapter inspired by "My Immortal" by Evanescence.

Chapter 1 The Haze

_My grief lies all within, and these external manners of lament are merely shadows to the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortured soul._

~William Shakespeare

_I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch._

Despite my attempts to distract myself with Calculus, snatches of this morning's conversation with Charlie sprouted in my mind like fast-growing weeds.

_I want you to be happy—no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable._

If my charade hadn't fooled him after all this time, then Charlie was just out of luck. I didn't know how to be anything else, and his wellbeing was the only reason I'd bothered to pretend in the first place.

_I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks._

He had a snowball's chance in hell of making me leave, of that much I could be certain. I hadn't asked Charlie for anything but grocery money in months. I did everything that needed to be done without complaint. He owed me this one thing, didn't he? To just let me be, to not push me away?

But if he did try to send me away again, what would I do? I couldn't leave Forks. It was all I had.

_It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him._

I hadn't even been lying when I told him I wasn't waiting for anything. And I truly had no expectations.

I just had to hold on to this one thing, to this one place, to this last shred of meaning. If Charlie didn't want me around anymore, I could deal with it. Living on my own would be difficult, certainly, but I would manage. It wouldn't be the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

But not being in Forks would erase the last of the magic. The last thing keeping me alive.

I was getting too close to painful memories, thinking like that. The ripping sensation in my chest began to make its presence known. I uselessly bit my lip.

Redirecting my thoughts, I decided not to make plans with anyone this evening, though I'd told Charlie I would. Instead I would just drive to Port Angeles, sit on a bench for a while, and then come home. I would tell Charlie I met some local kids my own age. I would tell him I walked around the boardwalk, or that I went to dinner. Something typical for a Friday night.

I double checked that I'd written my name on today's assignment.

_Bella Swan_

_January 15__th_

Or I'd just go home and not worry about it. What did it matter? Charlie had already seen through my pretense of normality. Was there even a point to it anymore?

Calculus. Stave off the pain with calculus.

_The derivative of x^3 + 3x^2 + 9 is 3x^2 + 6x._

The familiar haze crept back, numbing the ache, and I could go on with my afternoon.

And then it was Saturday, and according to my watch my shift at Newton's was over. I didn't really care that I had no memory of the previous night or the last eight hours. I didn't care why I seemed to have a bruise forming on my shin. Losing track of time was the best way to avoid all forms of pain, which was the central point to the haze in the first place.

After work I did the grocery shopping. Not much produce in season, especially this far north, but I could make do with what was there. Charlie didn't need anything fancy. I stumbled through the store and tossed a bag of frozen broccoli into the cart, which suddenly seemed to be half-full. Life on autopilot may not be fun, but it certainly was efficient.

And then it was Sunday morning, and I was up to my elbows in bathtub cleaner, rubbing the spot where I'd just bumped my funny bone. I sighed and continued the mundane task.

And then it was Sunday afternoon, and I had just finished a paper for my Economics class and was about to start on physics homework.

And then it was Sunday night, and the gaping hole in my chest screamed; the burning cold was too much, just too much after three days of numbness. Tears fell fast and hot, and I clutched myself with all the strength I could muster to keep from ripping apart and bleeding out, but it didn't matter. I couldn't feel my lungs expanding or my heart thudding. I bit my lip until it bled, but this did nothing to distract me from the agony. This wasn't death, it was slow torture. Sobs shook my body for hours before sleep found me.

Then came the nightmare, same as always but no less potent. A cruel, silent game of hide and seek with no winner. Trees everywhere, giving no clues, sharing no secrets, until there _were_ no secrets, and no one to seek, and nobody who might seek after me, and an eternity of solitude stretched out before me as it closed in on me…

And I was screaming, and I couldn't be sure it was Monday morning.

Charlie looked more worried than usual today. I wondered idly if I'd forgotten to take my towel off the bathroom mirror again. Renee had lost a friend to pancreatic cancer when I was nine, and at that age I hadn't understood the Jewish custom of covering the mirrors when sitting shivah, why anyone would not want to see their own face.

I had no trouble with the concept now. My bedroom mirror had a sheet permanently in place.

"Do you need a note for school?" Charlie asked.

What a strange question. "Note?" I echoed.

"For yesterday, sweetie," Charlie said gently. "Are you still feeling sick? I can stay home with you."

I bit my lip and glanced briefly at the digital watch Charlie had given me. The Timex Ironman Triathlon. Law enforcement and military personnel swore by it. It even had a date display.

6:45 AM

Tuesday

January 19

I had lost an entire day. Monday just…wasn't.

"No thanks, Dad," I said carefully. Or at least I thought I said it carefully. Was my voice still as lifeless as he'd accused? "I should get caught up on what I missed."

I should. But did I want to, truly?

"Are you sure, Bella?"

Not really. I didn't see a need for it.

"I'm sure. Thanks for the offer, though."

I shook my head to clear it.

And I was standing in front of a bathroom mirror at school.

Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, it bothered me that the haze was taking more of my time than it had before.

But just now it was a secondary concern to the person in the mirror, the person I went to ridiculous lengths to avoid looking at.

Her skin wasn't just pale. It was bleached, nearly transparent, and it hung from the bones of her face like torn spider webs. The eyes, dull and murky, appeared to have been punched recently, so dark were the bags underneath them. The hair wasn't a mess, but it had no shine and lay flat and ugly, like moth-eaten curtains against the sunken cheeks.

_No wonder he left._

Quickly, foolishly, I shut my eyes to that errant thought.

And a different pale face appeared behind my eyelids. An angel's face, with unruly, bronze hair, his beautiful golden eyes cold and distant, his expression hard…indifferent.

With no warning whatsoever, the hole shredded through me with so much force I actually cried out.

At that moment, Angela Weber walked into the restroom.

"Bella?" She sounded tentative.

I couldn't see her, but I knew her voice. Trying to tell her I was fine, I found that my voice was lost to choking sounds.

"Bella!" I heard her scream. Her voice came from above me. Why?

"Somebody call the nurse! Bella? Can you hear me?"

Someone was wheezing. It took an unknown length of time to realize it was me; I didn't feel it. The hole seemed to grow larger while I tried to make sense of things, so I stopped trying.

I felt someone lifting me—I must have fallen—and I was being strapped onto some kind of bed. Something covered my face and blew air at me.

It was all nothing to the stabbing in my torso.

Someone screamed. Me again. Sirens screeched.

New voices, stressed but controlled, fired off letters and numbers as they poked and prodded.

_The derivative of x^3 + 3x^2 + 4x + 7 is 3x^2 + 6x + 4._

Hands pried my arms away from my chest. I hadn't remembered grabbing at it, but it was such an automatic motion by now that it was simply muscle memory, like a violinist placing her fingers in exactly the right location on the neck of her instrument to obtain an E note.

More screams that sounded like me. Wailing.

Something pricked my arm, and a rush of cold and itchiness shot up my vein. The pain dulled slightly. Just enough for all the noise to quiet, not enough to vanquish the misery.

No nightmares this time. Just the hollow aching and blackness.

_The derivative of x^4 + 3x^2 is 4x^3 + 6x._

And then there was dim light. I heard the low volume of a television and familiar snores near my left side. My bed had rails.

My watch was gone, so I couldn't check the day.

But the TV was on. CNN. I scanned the bottom of the screen. No luck with the day of the week, but…

I looked again, alternating between widening my eyes and squinting. I tried to wrap my mind around what I was seeing.

11:30 PM

February 2

How long had I been here?

Had I been in a coma for two weeks? How was that even possible?

The snoring next to me got louder. "Charlie?"

Still snoring.

"Charlie," I tried again, louder this time. He heard nothing, and he was too far from the bed for me to reach without getting up.

Could I get up? I flexed the muscles in my legs. Stiff, but usable.

I swung my legs toward my father and tried to sit up. "Dad!" I said loudly.

Charlie snorted himself awake, blinking rapidly before he focused on me. "Bella? What is it? Do you need the nurse?"

Confusion swirled in my head. Hadn't I been comatose for the last two weeks? Shouldn't Charlie be overjoyed that I was sitting up and speaking?

"What happened?" I asked.

Why did Charlie look confused now?

"What do you mean, Bella? What happened when?"

"Exactly," I said. "When did I get here? How long have I been out?"

"Out?" Charlie repeated. Clearly my father was too sleepy to carry on a conversation.

I felt around the bed until I found the nurse call button. "Yes?" a bored voice answered.

"Could you send a nurse, please?" I asked. "I don't understand what's going on."

"Yes, ma'am," the voice droned.

Charlie stared at me, mouth agape.

"Go back to sleep, Dad. I'll figure this thing out."

A night nurse stepped into the room a minute later, her expression professionally detached. "What can I do for you, Miss Swan?"

"How long have I been unconscious?"

The nurse looked confused. Not a good sign at all.

"It's about 11:30, so I imagine you've only been sleeping a few hours."

This answer made no sense, so I decided to try a different question. "How long have I been in the hospital?"

Now her expression was alarmed. "You arrived yesterday afternoon. Don't you remember?"

Only one day? What happened to the other thirteen days?

"And I haven't been in a coma?"

Charlie decided to join the conversation. "Bella, what are you talking about? You had dinner a few hours ago."

"I'm paging Dr. Snow," the nurse told us, and she was gone.

"Bella?" Charlie tried again in a strained voice.

"Let's wait for the doctor, Dad," I said, biting my lip.

If I could stay awake that long.

I tried to remain focused on the particulars of the news, something I'd not done in months. It was mostly political, which was not helpful.

Fortunately, Dr. Snow was not far, and there were apparently no patients with more pressing needs at the moment. I'd managed to stay aware for ten whole minutes when Dr. Snow and my night nurse strode into the room.

"Bella, what's the last thing you remember?" Ah, so the nurse had already filled him in.

"I was in the bathroom at school…" I began, then stopped. Skipping over the worst part would be best. "Then I remember sirens. And the emergency room."

"Anything else?" he prompted.

"No, I just woke up fifteen or twenty minutes ago."

Dr. Snow exchanged a glance with Charlie before turning to the nurse.

"Has she been responsive?"

"The day nurse said she woke up screaming from a nightmare, but she's been quiet otherwise. She ate her meals and was cooperative and compliant during her tests. I haven't had any problems getting a response from her."

I'd had a nightmare during the haze? Why didn't I remember?

"But she won't _do_ anything," Charlie piped up. "She just leaves the TV on and zones out. She won't even carry on a conversation anymore. Even before this," he gestured around the room. "It's like she's not there."

Well, they were all talking about me as if I weren't here. I cleared my throat and cocked an eyebrow at Charlie. "I'm right here, Dad." I meant for it to come out acidly, but my attempt fell a little flat.

Charlie stared into my face for ten full seconds, searching.

"Yes, you are." Another glance at Dr. Snow. "For the moment."

I was about to form a hollow protest when Dr. Snow interrupted my thought. "Bella, what's the last thing you remember before the incident at school?"

I sighed. It wasn't as though I hadn't been thinking about this a little while ago, and I was curious about this phenomenon like I hadn't been curious about anything else in months.

"I remember having breakfast with Charlie. He asked me if I needed a note for school."

Charlie's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Bella, that was two weeks ago."

Turning my eyes back to the date and time stamp on CNN, I murmured back, "Yes, I know."

Dr. Snow turned back to Charlie. "Has she shown any signs of being catatonic in the last two weeks, like Dr. Gerandy said she was the last time?"

I noted the anger in Charlie's face. "No. She cooks and cleans and goes to school and work. She's completely functional. She's just empty."

I didn't want to listen to this particular conversation now that it had taken a familiar turn. The images on CNN were quite colorful. But before I could focus on them too much, I needed something.

"Dad," I asked dully, "can I have my watch back?"

Silently, Charlie stood up and pulled my watch from his pocket and handed it to me. I started to wrap the band around my left wrist, but there was an IV inserted there.

"Ugh. Needles."

So I placed the watch on my right wrist. As I twisted it and stared at the unusual sight, my eyes fell on my crescent-shaped scar. Unable to resist, I traced it lightly with my finger. It was several degrees colder than the rest of my body.

_It will be as if I'd never existed._

Television. I hated television, but the little people looked so funny when I squinted. Blurry shapes. So funny.

And then a commercial. Child-sized shapes, all dressed in pink. Synchronized. Graceful.

Ballet dancers.

My arms wrapped themselves across my torso without a conscious thought.

_I'm thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself—for him._

I must not let Charlie see.

But the throbbing had already begun.

No. No. _No._

_The derivative of 7x^4 – 2x^3 + 8x is 28x^3 – 6x + 8. The derivative of 28x^3 – 6x + 8 is…twenty-eight times three is ninety minus six…84x^2 – 12 x. Twenty-eight times three is eighty-four. Twenty-eight times four is one-twelve. Twenty-eight times five is one-forty._

"Bella?" a faraway voice called. I dimly registered that it was Dr. Snow.

"Yes?" I answered.

"Can you remember anything else?"

I might have answered him, but I had no idea what I said.

A tiny voice whispered, "…since the Cullens left."

_Twenty-eight times six is…_

_Throb._

_Twenty-eight times six is…_

_Throb._

_Is…_

_Rip._

Acute agony. No air. Spinning. Freezing. Burning. Bleeding. Sobbing.

The hole was, impossibly, larger.

Serrated knives carved me into pieces, and I could not hear anything but my own screams.

I was trapped in a green maze of trees, and this time I could remember who I was searching for. My blood dripped a trail on the ground, and it should have been enough to draw him out. Death at his hands would be welcome, but he was never coming back. No one would ever come back for me, no matter how much I bled, so I might as well let it all drain away.


	2. St Vincent

**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. All other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name.  
**A/N:** Special thanks, as always, to sirah87 for listening to me whine about this story.  
This chapter inspired by "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult

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Previously_: _

_I was trapped in a green maze of trees, and this time I could remember who I was searching for. My blood dripped a trail on the ground, and it should have been enough to draw him out. Death at his hands would be welcome, but he was never coming back. No one would ever come back for me, no matter how much I bled, so I might as well let it all drain away..._

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Chapter 2 St. Vincent

_Hell is a place, a time, a consciousness, in which there is no love._

~Richard Bach

And then I was crying, and awake, and in a different room.

Sitting up quickly and forcing my tears to cease, I noted that the bed had no rails. The sheets were white, with a blue thermal blanket underneath. There was a single, battered chair in the tiny white room, a small aluminum thing with no cushion. A toilet and sink rested along the far wall, industrial grade stainless steel. A pair of slippers sat neatly in a corner, so clean and perfect they'd clearly never been worn more than once. A door stood in the far left corner, closed, with a steel panel above the doorknob indicating it had a deadbolt that could only be opened from the other side. It had a small, square window placed high in the center, just large enough for me to see the head of someone staring at me through it.

The door opened, and a stranger walked in. Male. Blond. Blue eyes. Large build. Light green scrubs. Faint memories of pain registered. Violence. He was not to be trusted.

"Good mornin'. Are you ready for breakfast?"

My eyes quickly searched the room again. I froze when I noticed the window behind my bed.

I was three or four floors up, with a view of a large body of water and grey clouds.

Not Forks.

Automatically I raised my left wrist to check my watch.

8:17 A.M.

Wednesday

March 10

Confused, I looked at my clothes. I didn't remember changing into this long-sleeved white shirt or pale grey sweatpants. I didn't remember _owning_ these particular pale grey sweatpants. They looked used, but still slightly too new for my wardrobe.

"You hear me, darlin'?"

My eyes wary, I looked at the stranger again. Would he hurt me? Would he let me go? Was he the reason my legs seemed to ache this morning, the reason my left arm felt bruised? Somehow I doubted that I'd simply tripped this time.

Something itched on my right wrist, and I lifted my hand slowly to my face so I wouldn't have to take my eyes off the stranger again. My eyes flickered to the thing on my wrist.

A patient identification bracelet.

Isabella M. SwanRoom 413

Dr. P. McCoig

St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital

My eyes refocused on the stranger. An orderly.

"Yes," I answered carefully, lowering my arm slowly. I made sure to scratch the skin under my bracelet, hoping he'd think I just had an itch. "I'd like breakfast now."

The orderly smiled in a way I did not like. "Come to the dinin' hall, then." His name tag said James Warren. I winced at the name and covered my crescent scar with my left hand. Another flash: Jimmy. He went by Jimmy. I stood up slowly.

"This way, please."

As quietly as I could manage, I slunk behind Jimmy into the hallway. My feet were bare, but I did not mind the cold floor. Fear lent me an uncommon amount of grace today, and not having any shoes to trip over was a blessing.

Three turns later I was in a large open space. Round tables were scattered throughout the room, some occupied with blank-faced patients. Females. Some of them cried quietly into their hands.

The room was just vaguely familiar enough that I knew where to retrieve a tray of food. Oatmeal, peaches, and milk. Could it be more cliché?

I picked a corner table and sat with my arms and shoulders hunched forward (I did not know why this felt like a habit), my back to the wall, surveying the room as I picked at my unappetizing meal.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this alert. It was not pleasant. For a brief moment I considered trying to reclaim the haze. But I didn't know where I was or how far away from Forks I'd been sent.

After disposing of my tray, I crossed the room to the opposite wall, where a row of ugly brown sofas and end tables stood next to the windows. A newspaper lay on one of the low tables: the Seattle Times.

A glance out the window confirmed it. I could see the Space Needle from here, pointing to the heavens in the distance.

Seattle.

The waterscape visible from my room must be either Puget Sound or Elliot Bay.

I wondered if the four-mile expanse of water was calm enough for me to swim across, and if I'd be able to get from the shore to a highway on foot. I couldn't be sure how far the nearest ferry was located, but I'd rather just get to the other side of the water before I worried about anything else. Even when I made it to the Olympic Peninsula, and I was determined to make it there somehow, there was no way I'd be able to cross all those damn mountains on foot. Seattle was 140 miles from home by car. I had no money for a cab or bus, but maybe I could hitch a ride with a tourist on his way to Forks for recreation. Would Charlie pick me up if I called him, or would he call Seattle PD and have me brought back before I had a chance to explain anything?

"Miss Swan?" a man's voice said behind me.

Startled, I spun quickly to analyze the new stranger. This one wore a white coat and carried a thick, brown file folder. His tag said Dr. McCoig.

I evaluated him briefly before speaking. A short man, barely an inch taller than me. Paunchy. Balding. Bifocals. His expression was curious, but his overall features and stance were worn out, like he'd been doing the same kind of work for years and was tired of it. There was something else in his eyes. Anticipation?

Faint recollections triggered somewhere in my brain. Burning. Stinging. Instinct told me this man was dangerous in a different way than the orderly.

"Yes, doctor?" I said, my voice still flat.

"It's time for our session. Would you like to speak to me in your room, or my office?"

Being alone with this man, my instincts screamed at me, would be a very bad idea.

Scanning the room, I noticed an emergency fire exit, with nothing blocking my path to it from here. Good to know. But a new possibility occurred to me.

"Could we go outside?"

Surprise flickered across the doctor's face. "Er, not right now, Bella. You haven't had time to freshen up. But you can visit the garden after we're done."

That sounded promising, except that it also sounded like a lie.

"Here is fine," I replied. There were other patients and staff milling about: witnesses. I sank into a nearby couch and waited for Dr. McCoig to speak.

After a pause, he sat with me, leaving a wide space between us. He removed his hand from his lower right pocket and reached up to his left lapel pocket for a blue fountain pen.

"You seem better today," he began. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," I lied. This dream had been the worst one ever. But I didn't remember screaming when I woke up, so I'd probably get away with it.

"Are the dreams gone?" Dr. McCoig asked with real interest.

I stiffened. How much did this man know? What had I told him?

He had noticed my reaction. I'd have to speak carefully. "No, but they're getting…bearable." I resisted the ancient urge to bite my lip.

He nodded and made a note in the file. I noted that, despite the loveliness of his writing implement, his handwriting was rough and ugly. Without looking up, he asked, "What's the last thing you remember before waking up this morning?"

My body automatically kept very still without my having to give an order. "Going to bed," I lied again. I hoped my voice was still flat enough to fool him.

Dr. McCoig kept his eyes on his paperwork. "Jimmy said you didn't recognize him this morning, and that you were reading your I.D. tag. You want to try that again?"

I looked up, and saw Jimmy smirking in a corner thirty feet away.

This was not a safe topic of discussion, so I changed tack. "I want to see Charlie."

The doctor paused for two seconds. "Your father visits every Saturday," he replied, still taking notes.

"I want to see him _now_."

"He'll be back in three days. You can wait three days, can't you?"

My eyes narrowed. "Can't I call him?"

Finally the doctor looked up, a strange expression on his face. "Of course you can. As soon as we're done."

I kept my face even and waited.

"What do you remember before today?"

I wished I could lie better. "I remember Charlie. He was upset."

Dr. McCoig looked me over, head to foot. "When?" he asked.

I would not be able to fool him. "Last month," I said flatly.

He went back to his notes. "Where?"

I shut my eyes briefly and spoke truthfully. It did not matter anymore. This man would not release me either way, I realized. "At the hospital in Forks."

He nodded, as if this were an answer he expected.

"What can you tell me about the pain?" He sounded detached, but intentionally so, as if he were asking about the weather when he really wanted to ask something else.

"Nothing," I hissed back. This was not to be spoken of, and anyone who'd been my doctor for five weeks should have been able to figure that out by now.

He looked at me, interested again. "What are you feeling right now?"

I eyed him incredulously. "Angry."

He looked back down and scribbled rapidly. "Interesting," he murmured, low enough that he thought I couldn't hear him. But my ears were sharp at the moment.

"May I call my father now?" I growled.

"Not quite yet. I have one more question, and then it will be time for your medication."

"Medication?" I repeated, stunned. "What kind of medication?"

"Nothing special," he said evasively. "Just something to help."

"Help with what?" I demanded.

"The dreams," he said, squirming slightly. "Now, one last question."

I looked away from him toward the exit, willing him to get it over with so I could hurry up and check on Charlie. I hated to think of him all alone.

Dr. McCoig paused, as if deliberating how to phrase his question. I shifted my eyes back to him, wary all of a sudden. He smiled.

"Do you remember the last time you saw Edward Cullen?"

The room was upside down as I stumbled toward the fire exit, trying to escape despite the raging pain. Someone shouted orders, but I couldn't make out the words over the sound of my own anguished shrieks. My body was nearly severed in two, it seemed, and something stabbed my arm. The room went black, but pain remained, and I couldn't move my arms to hold my body together anymore. And the screams never stopped, but they were only audible in my own head.

And then I was in the forest again. I couldn't move through it anymore; I could only search with my eyes as my blood pooled around me, seeping into the earth. And no one was coming, and nothing good was left, and the color leeched away from the world until there was nothing, just nothing, from here to eternity.

And I was screaming again. It was night, and I was in my tiny white room once more. There were no footsteps in the hall, just the frightening cries of other female patients. I looked at my watch.

3:02 A.M.

Sunday

March 14

I had missed Charlie's visit.

Tears streamed down my face as I stumbled to my small toilet and vomited violently. The smell stung my nose; my throat burned from the peptic acid.

After my stomach was empty and I'd calmed down a little, I turned to the sink and brushed my teeth, splashed my face with cold water. I felt fresh bruises across my arms. There was no mirror here, but I didn't need one to know I looked dead.

Moving to the window to gaze at the Sound, I contemplated my fractured reality. The words were almost stone carvings in my brain.

The haze was too strong.

I may or may not be on psychotropic drugs.

The dreams were intolerable and growing more so all the time.

The pain grew more potent with time, too.

I couldn't see Charlie unless I stayed awake, aware. But I couldn't hold on to awareness for any specific length of time, and even if I did, the pain just came back worse than before.

Someone here was hurting me, and would probably continue to do so indefinitely.

I was never going home.

I would never see _him_ again.

He didn't love me; he'd never loved me.

I would never be loved again.

I was just a useless toy, worthless.

There was nothing left to hold on to.

I was going to die here.

There was no reason to be alive.

I might as well let the pain kill me. Clearly it was my only means of escape.

I pressed my face to the cold glass, shut my eyes to the world, and spoke the words that would bring me to the release of death.

"Edward, I love you."

His beautiful face was all I could see as my body convulsed with excruciating intensity, screeches erupting erratically. And I didn't fight to hold myself intact; I didn't want to. I did not know who it was that lifted my thrashing body from the floor and unceremoniously dumped me on my bed. I didn't care when the room briefly smelled like hospital food, because my stomach was gone, so I had no need to eat. It did not make a difference when an orderly came to manhandle me, to wrap my arms, legs, and waist in restraints and blow air in my face, or when a laughing voice came to hurt me and sedate me. Nothing could touch the agony I imprisoned myself inside of, wrapped around me like a blanket, and nothing could make me see anything but my glorious, indifferent angel, golden eyes frozen and uncaring.

I could not feel my heart or my lungs, but I knew, somehow, that both my pulse and my breathing were slowing. And I didn't mind that at all; I welcomed it, took comfort from it, because it meant that all this would be over soon, and I'd finally have peace.

Eventually all was quiet but for my hoarse shrieks of pain and the mattress groaning under my jerking, spastic movements. Even that was fading. Finally.

Then I heard something new: a key turning in a lock, and the creak of a door hinge. I wondered vaguely who had come to watch me die, and if they'd try to torture me one last time before I did.

"Bella?" a velvet voice whispered.

Oh!

At last the angel had come. The pain vanished, and I knew I was finally, gratefully, mercifully dead. I felt the restraints fall away.

"Bella? Can you hear me? Bella!" the angel voice cried softly. "What did they do to you?"

Cool arms gathered me up gently, and I was so happy that he would be the one to carry me to heaven, or hell, or oblivion. Anywhere, so long as he remained. I did not open my eyes, the better to appreciate his lovely voice.

Something cold touched my forehead, my cheeks, my hair, my nose.

"I won't let anyone hurt you anymore."

And then I was flying, nestled comfortably in my angel's arms, cool night air whipping through my hair. Glorious. I had no sense of time, nor did I want any. I could fly with him forever and be absolutely fulfilled.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't know," the angel apologized. Which made no sense to me. I frowned.

"Are you awake? Can you hear me, Bella?"

I felt myself being pressed closer momentarily. The wind wasn't soaring around me anymore. Had we landed?

"Please, Bella. Please wake up," the angel pleaded. Cold fingers brushed the hair back from my face, caressed my cheeks, traced my jaw.

"Please," the voice whispered, sounding desperate now. I felt his cool breath spread across my face. I inhaled automatically, and found with surprise that I _could_ breathe. I could _feel_ my pulse stutter, then race.

My eyes flashed open.

The most amazing gold eyes stared back into mine.

And they weren't like before, icy and indifferent. These eyes, buttery and warm, were soft, concerned, and loving.

My hand reached up of its own free will to touch his lovely face. My fingers were shrunken, skin over thin bones, veins standing out.

With the utmost care, he gently kissed my hand, looking as if he feared it might crumble under too much pressure.

His face, only inches from mine, blindingly beautiful, visible even in dimness, smiled slightly. His scent washed over me, and I knew he was taking me to heaven.

And there was no gaping hole. And there was no haze.

There was only Edward.

"Edward," I mouthed, unable to make my voice work.

"Yes, love. I'm here," he murmured.

The breeze carried the scent of fresh rain and pine as he strode further from the light. For a moment, the new scent pulled my focus from Edward to our location.

Trees in every direction, difficult to see with only moonlight filtering through the canopy. No city lights, no discernible path, only anonymous trees and light rainfall as far as my weak eyes could see.

Panic flooded my body, quickening my pulse and my breathing, as I realized the angel had brought me to my nightmare, to the very center of hell. Would he carve me up first, let me bleed out and complete the vision? Would he abandon me here?

"Bella!" Edward's voice was alarmed as he took in my expression and my body's sudden changes. "Calm down, Bella. You're safe, I promise."

My fingers suddenly possessed the strength of iron as I clutched his arm, his stone neck. I found my voice. "Don't! Don't leave me!" My eyes widened, taking in all available light, and I felt the tremors building in my throat.

"Shh, Bella, shh. I won't leave you, I swear." Edward's velvet voice was soothing, and he hugged me tighter to his cold body. "I will never abandon you again."

And I wanted so badly to believe.

My eyes locked on his face, seeking confirmation.

Gradually the tremors lessened, and I realized we were running again. Lavender light began to bleed into the sky on our left, which meant we were traveling south. That seemed...odd.

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

Edward looked down into my face, and I wondered what I must look like to him. His expression was compassionate as he answered. "I'm bringing you home."

This time the panic did not come quickly. If he was dumping me at Charlie's door, at least I'd be in Forks, and I'd be able to take care of my father. Not heaven, but certainly not hell.

But he said _bringing_, not taking.

"Explain," I said dizzily.

Kissing my forehead gently, he whispered, "We're nearly there, love. Just hold on."

But I couldn't hold on anymore. My eyelids were suddenly too heavy, my stomach twisted and clenched, and my head throbbed so terribly that I could only hiss softly in response. Instinctively, the numbers came to block the pain.

_Two squared equals four. Four squared equals sixteen. Sixteen squared equals two hundred fifty-six._

The last thing I saw was Edward's curious expression.


	3. Fight or Flight

**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. All other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name. References to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental and unintentional.  
**A/N:** Special thanks, as always, to sirah87 for putting up with my non-stop need to discuss and tweak this tale.  
This chapter inspired by (among other things) "It's Been A While" by Staind  
Enormous gratitude to all you lovely people who added me and/or my story to your favorites and alerts. Extra special kisses for those who took time to review as well. You've made my month!

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Chapter 3 Fight or Flight

_It is a very mixed blessing to be brought back from the dead._

~Kurt Vonnegut

I was running alone in the woods again. Dark, but visible in the dim light of dreams. And I was searching, searching, but not bleeding, not lost or afraid. And I laughed as I ran, and someone was searching for me, calling my name. _Bella? Bella?_

"Bella?" a golden voice called. Not the same as the velvet voice in my dream, but familiar.

I was lying on something soft. A couch?

Cold fingers pressed against the crease of my arm. Another cool hand rested on my forehead. Something squeezed the arm that was being touched. A blood pressure cuff.

My eyes snapped open. Dr. Cullen looked into my eyes very deliberately as the air released from the constricting cuff on my arm.

"Carlisle?" I whispered.

Someone exhaled in relief next to me. My eyes shifted in the direction of the sound. Edward. His forehead creased in worry, but he was smiling. He pulled his hand away from my head to get a look at my face.

"Pulse is still erratic, but her blood pressure has returned to normal," Carlisle said quietly. "Bella? How do you feel?"

I paused, uncertain. How _did_ I feel? Closing my eyes for a few more seconds, I evaluated. Several different, highly unpleasant sensations seemed to be duking it out in my body. My mind retreated from that automatically.

_The derivative of x^2 + 6x is 2x + 6._

"Bella?" Edward sounded confused. "What are you talking about?"

Had I said that out loud? I shook my head, trying to stay awake. The movement was painful. "I feel…" I tried again to order my thoughts, but nothing made sense.

My eyes found Edward's, and this one thing snapped into place.

"…happy."

Some emotion I could not positively identify at the moment flooded Edward's face. Pleasure, or pain?

Carlisle chuckled, but looked serious. "Any pain or dizziness?"

My attention returned to my own body. "Headache." I thought again. "Shaky. My wrists hurt a little. And my back."

Nodding, Carlisle spoke quietly. "Anything else?"

My stomach made an embarrassing, protesting sort of sound. "Hungry," I said.

Now Edward laughed, and just a little too loudly. My hand reached up to cover my left eye, which suddenly throbbed from my eye socket to my hairline. I stifled a groan.

Chagrined, Edward grew silent. I reached for his icy hand and placed it over the painful parts.

Carlisle watched me quietly for a few minutes more. When the pain seemed to leave my face, he spoke just above a whisper.

"Bella, what's the last thing you remember?"

I froze. How much time had I lost?

My left hand moved automatically, twisting my wrist toward me.

A swift hand grasped my wrist gently but firmly. I could feel my watch pressing into my skin.

My heart sped up, my teeth clenched, and sweat beaded on my forehead. My eyes went wide again. I jerked my wrist back toward my body, but the hand wouldn't let go.

"Bella?"

"Bella, love?"

Their voices were worried, but in this instant I only knew one thing: nothing good ever came of answering _that_ question.

I pulled again, yanking as hard as I could. The hand was strong enough to hold me there, or crush my wrist into dust, but it let go in surprise.

Flight reflex activated, I found to my surprise that I had jumped backwards off the couch and landed on my feet. My eyes swept the room. The Cullens' living room near Forks. A round-faced female, motionless and staring at the top of the stairs, carrying fresh clothes and towels. The two males still in front of the couch, in front of me. No one else in sight. Two exits from this room, I remembered. The front door was ten feet behind me and to my left. I backed toward it, my eyes on the two men, half risen in surprise but remaining stationary.

"Stay away from me!" I cried breathlessly. "Don't touch me!" I reached for the doorknob. Not locked. It opened easily.

Three statues stared at me with alarm and concern. They did not move, but one spoke. "Bella," he said softly, "no one is going to hurt you. I promised, remember?"

Quivering, I backed out the door. "You can't make me go back." As long as I kept my eyes on them, they stayed in place. I felt my way to the porch railing and down the steps.

My bare feet stepped in the wet grass, and I turned and ran for dear life.

Somewhere in my brain, a voice told me that I was running toward the pain, not away from it. The throbbing edges of the hole claimed me, but for once I did not care. Escape was my only priority.

I'd gone three whole steps before stone arms scooped me up and restrained me.

I found a handful of hair and tore at it. "Let me go! I won't go back!" I clawed at a shirt, struggling to break free, but that was impossible. "I'll never go back there! Never!" The stone was unrelenting.

"Kill me! Take my blood, take it all! Just don't send me back, please!" Wild sobs choked anything else I had to say, and my eyes crossed as I raked my nails across my own throat. Let him kill me right now rather than send me back to whatever circle of hell I had just come from.

"Shh, Bella, Bella, my love, nobody is sending you anywhere." The arms held me firm, prevented me from drawing my own blood, crushed me close to a cold torso. Fervent ice kisses peppered my face. "You never have to go back, Bella. I won't let anyone take you away from me, ever."

I stopped struggling then and wept hysterically instead. It hurt almost as much as the hole had, but that was gone now.

And Edward's breath was everywhere, making me swoon, making me forget.

"You are safe with me."

And the sobbing ebbed.

"No one will ever harm you again."

And the tears slowed.

"I love you, Bella."

And I desperately wanted to believe that, too. But it couldn't be true, nothing was true, nothing was real, the world was full of evil trees and nothing…

I was running through the trees again, searching, searching, finding nothing. The eyes of a predator followed me, and I would never be able to stop running from him, and I'd never escape his dagger-words, and I'd never find what I sought...

And I was screaming, thrashing, trying to run despite not being upright. Cold, concrete arms came from behind me and wrapped around my waist carefully. More cold hands touched my face, smoothed back my hair, while gentle voices murmured soothingly in bells and velvet, waiting for my screams to die away, for my body to be still.

After a long time, or maybe only five minutes, I was only sobbing, and my eyes were swollen shut. Using my other senses, I pieced together my surroundings.

I was lying on a bed—no a couch—slightly turned on my right side. Leather squealed under the heels of my bare feet. Someone had wrapped me in a loose cocoon—a blanket. My torso was reclined, not flat, and my pillow was made of stone that rose and fell, smelled delicious and sweet.

Sounds began to make a little sense. The velvet voice was closer, just behind my left ear, mostly making shushing sounds. The bell voices were close by. The female voice was motherly, calling me "dear," offering me things. The male bell-voice spoke words that sounded technical, clinical, and not directed at me. It seemed to be connected to the fingers touching my wrist.

Something cold pressed softly into my hair, and one of the stone arms left my waist and slid lightly up my left arm so that a hand could caress my left temple. From nowhere, a cool, wet towel wiped my eyes gently, removing whatever crust and goo had sealed them shut.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and scanned the room.

Esme had the wet washcloth in her hand, and her soft eyes were set in a compassionate expression. She knelt at my side, humming an unfamiliar tune and smiling as she continued to wash my face.

Carlisle crouched next to her, golden-haired and divine, his expression concerned. He looked into my eyes carefully, briefly shined a light in my eyes, then stared past me and said something about pupils.

Edward's arms held me tenderly, not restraining but supporting. Though I could not see his face behind me, a mixture of anxiety and relief rolled off his body in waves.

The rest of the room seemed empty of people. Golden walls, golden carpet, stereo in the corner, wall of windows to the left, wall of shelves directly across from me, open door to the right. Edward's room.

The light from outside was diffused by clouds, making it impossible to distinguish the time of day. I knew where I was, but not when.

I twisted my left wrist toward me cautiously. Everyone froze.

8:02 A.M.

Thursday

March 18

Four days had passed since I'd last checked my watch, but that's all I could be certain of. When had everything else happened? How much of it was real?

I realized everyone was waiting for me with bated breath. Or no breath, actually. Slowly, I lowered my arm, and my eyes locked on Carlisle, still crouched and leaning toward me. What would he do? Should I try for the door? My muscles coiled in preparation.

Edward must have felt it, because his thumbs suddenly moved to rub soothing circles on my temples. "No one will hurt you here," he breathed in my ear. "I promise you."

When I did not relax, his voice buzzed rapidly. Carlisle slowly straightened out of his crouch and backed away. His face was strangely tired, his expression too old for his features.

"Bella," Esme said softly, distracting me. "Would you like to shower?"

This was suddenly the most tempting offer I'd ever heard in my life. I nodded gratefully.

Edward's arms released me, and I tried to get up. Tried and failed. My body was too weak to stand.

"Would you like me to carry you, Bella?" Esme asked politely.

I'd have preferred to walk, but that didn't seem possible at the moment, so I nodded again. Why was I so feeble now, when I'd been so strong just a short while ago?

Esme moved slowly as she carried me from the room, and it occurred to me that she was trying not to frighten me. I leaned my head against her shoulder, glad for her comforting presence.

Standing in the shower was out, so Esme helped me into a large bathtub instead. The warm water was relaxing, and Esme even washed my hair. I noticed lots of fading yellow and brown bruises on my arms and legs and a few that were still green, but I did not comment on them, nor did I ask why Esme touched my back so gingerly. There were angry-looking scars and scabs in the bend of my elbow, shaped like holes. Even more mysterious were the myriad of tiny, circular spots covering odd places on my torso and extremities. Most of them were pink and white, but two were purplish-black and scabby; after seeing those, I shut my eyes completely. I refused to touch the angry welts that covered my neck. Esme gently applied some kind of antibiotic gel to all my wounds for me without my having to ask. After I was clean and dry, wearing comfortable pajamas I didn't recognize, and my teeth were brushed, Esme combed my hair out for me.

No one had taken this much care of me since childhood. It was pleasant, and this surprised me.

"What would you like for breakfast?" she asked.

My voice came out as a hoarse croak, strange to my ears. "Toast."

The rest of the morning passed quietly enough. The rest of the Cullens did not seem to be at home, and Edward and Carlisle kept a watchful distance. I sat in front of the television, not really paying attention, occasionally dozing off for short intervals. It was a restful time.

After lunch I found that I wanted Edward again, that I ached for him. I stood carefully, testing the strength of my legs, and walked upstairs, Esme close at my side. Tinkling sounds, Debussy, came from Edward's room. I paused at the doorway and looked at Esme.

"If you need me, just call my name," she smiled. "I can hear you from any part of the house." I hugged her in thanks and turned to walk through Edward's door.

Edward was draped across the couch, waiting for me. His fingers twitched on a remote, lowering the stereo volume, before dropping it to the floor. He was a statue then, eyes never leaving my face, his expression cautious.

I couldn't stand it anymore. Not the space between us, not the way he looked at me, like he wasn't entirely certain who I was or what I would do, and most definitely not the silence. It was all entirely too much like the way he'd been with me right before he left me, and there was no way I could live through that a second time.

I crossed the room in three quick strides and collapsed onto his chest. His arms went around me instantly, hugging me close as my hands reached up and locked around the back of his neck.

"Bella," he whispered into my hair, relief saturating his velvet-soft voice. "Bella. Bella." Over and over.

I did not cry or speak. I just breathed his scent in deeply and twisted my fingers through his hair. I listened to him breathe and murmur, felt his hand stroke my hair, and was not afraid of him anymore.

"Edward," I finally said into his chest.

I felt him squeeze me slightly, as if he had missed the sound of my voice, too. He kissed the top of my head three times, and each kiss was a tiny piece of heaven. I planted three kisses of my own on his chest, and he sighed happily.

About three songs later I twisted in his arms until I was curled up on my left side, my right arm free. My fingers traced the muscles of his arm as I took time to sort through my questions. I settled on the most pressing.

"What happened to me?" I whispered.

Edward grazed my face softly with his knuckles. "Where would you like me to begin?"

I pondered this. "Start with how you knew where to find me."

He inhaled deeply and began. "I came back to Forks last week to check on you, or at least that's what I told myself. It was the last weekend of Spring Break, so of course you weren't at school. I couldn't find you at work, and all your scent trails in town were too old or washed away. I was afraid you might have gone back to your mother.

"Your truck was still parked at your house, but Charlie wasn't home. I climbed through your window, not really sure I'd find you. But I hoped.

"All your things were still there, and the scent was still concentrated but stale. It didn't make sense to me. If you'd moved to Florida, surely you would have taken your books, at least.

"Charlie came home unexpectedly, and I hid, hoping to piece everything together from his thoughts. It was…confusing. I've never told you this, but I can't hear Charlie's thoughts as clearly as most humans. I only get impressions, the gist of his thoughts, not words or vivid pictures.

"Charlie wore a dark suit that day instead of his uniform, and he was grieving a loss. There was a sheet over your mirror. I thought you had—" Edward cut off, and tried to move past the pain. I wondered who had died that Charlie had been so close to. Billy Black, maybe?

"When he came inside, he sat for a while, just feeling misery. But then he got up to make a phone call, and his thoughts changed to concern, anxiety, and a surprisingly clear picture of you. He asked for an update on your condition and demanded to speak to you. He became disappointed and hung up.

"Clearly you were alive and not with Renee, and there's more than one medical facility in the world named for the patron saint of hospitals. I had to stop myself from storming down the stairs to get answers from Charlie myself. I didn't want to scare him, and after dinner he left again, thinking of comforting someone else.

"I searched the house until I found he'd been receiving mail from this particular St. Vincent's. I didn't like it. That place has a bad reputation, and the paperwork indicated you had been there over a month. So I ran to Seattle to find you."

"Wait," I interrupted. "What kind of reputation?"

Edward's body stiffened. I twisted my head up to look at his face, and I thought I saw his lips curl in revulsion before he recomposed his features.

"Edward?" I pressed.

"St. Vincent's is a hospital for people whose families don't have much money and can't afford to send them anywhere else. Most of the women there don't get better," he said through clenched teeth. I looked down at the bruises on my forearm, and I didn't want to know what other marks I might have where I couldn't see or why I remembered burning sensations.

"What happened next?" I asked, not quite able to make my voice sound even.

"I broke into the facility Sunday night," Edward continued, returning to his calm tone, "and stole your files, the real one and the dummy file. Dr. McCoig is not a very good doctor, but his notes were quite thorough."

I flinched involuntarily at the name, and a low whimper escaped my throat without my permission.

Edward immediately switched to a soothing murmur. "Don't be afraid, love. I promise he'll never hurt you again." One arm curled protectively around me while his free hand cupped my face. I snuggled closer into his throat and inhaled. The sweetness there calmed me again, slowed my pounding heart instead of quickening it as it had in the past.

"What did you do then?" I asked after a minute.

He didn't answer right away. I guessed he was editing. "I found you," he said simply, "and brought you home."

Home.

"What did…?" I started, then paused. I was not sure I really wanted to know what they'd done to me in that place, so I switched to a different question. "What kind of medication did they give me?"

"Every kind," Edward growled. "Or at least it seemed like it. Painkillers, sedatives, mood stabilizers, antipsychotics…just too much. You're fortunate they didn't give them to you in the wrong combination, or you'd have died weeks ago. Evidently the doctor was taking advantage of Charlie's absence to experiment."

"Wait, didn't Charlie come see me?" I asked, confused. "He told me Charlie came every Saturday."

More growls built in his chest. "No. Charlie was told you were too unstable at first. Later, he was told that you didn't want to see him or your mother."

"But why would they—?" I didn't finish. Charlie would have seen the marks on my body and taken me away. They wanted to keep me. Distant screams of the other female patients echoed in my ears, and I didn't want to know anything more about what they'd done, why I couldn't remember it, or why I'd rather die than go back.

"What happened when we came here?" I asked quickly, trying to distract myself. "I don't remember everything."

"Detox," Edward said quietly. "It's taken the last three and a half days to get all the drugs out of your system." He shuddered. "It was frightening to watch. We thought you were nearly done yesterday morning, but then…" he trailed off. He meant my panic attack, if that's what one could call it.

I pushed myself up to look at his face. Agony and remorse etched every feature; his tortured eyes locked on mine.

I could not bear the sight of such pain, and I struggled for a way to lighten the mood. "At least now you can't say I have no survival instincts."

This was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut, and his breath started to come in small gasps. I took me a minute to realize he was crying. "You were like a cornered animal," he whispered, so low I almost could not hear. "Completely wild. And your eyes…" Another gasp. "You didn't know me, and you begged me to…" Choking sobs came louder now, making his chest jump under me.

Bewildered and scared, not wanting to see him suffer so, I stared into his face and stroked his cheek carefully, hoping the small gesture would be enough to comfort him.

Edward freed an icy hand to press my own closer to his face. He turned his head and kissed my palm, his expression almost reverent, eyes closed.

"Please, Bella," he pled with me quietly. "Please, if you can, if it's even possible, can you find it in your heart to try to forgive me? It's a poor excuse for all I've put you through, but I really did think I was protecting you by leaving. I thought you would be safer in your world than mine, and that you would move on, be happy, have a real life. It killed me to do it, to lie, to make you think I didn't want you, to walk away from the center of my universe, but I had to try for your sake. I truly thought you'd be better off without me in your life, and that was the only thought that made it possible for me to go.

"And see what I've done to you instead! The only thing in my existence worth protecting, and I broke you and left you at the mercy of those vile, disgusting—I'm so sorry, Bella. I ruined your life, and I have no right to ask for this, but please, please, forgive me if you can. I'll do whatever it takes to earn it, whatever you need, only please try. Please, Bella."

Reeling, I pulled back and blinked several times. My mouth opened and closed, like a fish removed from the water, and my heart pounded as though trying to escape my body.

I'd heard him, but it hadn't made the slightest bit of sense to me.

Why should he need me to forgive _him_ for my own human weaknesses, or for what other people had done to me? How was it his fault that I'd been unable to cope?

As I sorted through these thoughts, though, I had to admit to myself that all these negative things in my life were the result of his absence. That could not be denied. And yet, how many good and lovely things were the results of his presence?

"I need time," I finally said. "I want to, but I have to work through some things first." I looked carefully at him, searching for signs of hurt feelings. "Is that okay?"

He seemed pleased with my answer; he was smiling, anyway. "Yes," he nodded. "That's fair. I can prove myself with time."

I lay my head on his chest again, trying to understand the rest of what he'd said. Edward played absentmindedly with my hair, giving me quiet time. I cast my mind into the long conversation, and my thoughts hooked on my father.

"Charlie!" I exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. "Is he okay? Does he know I'm here? Whose funeral did he come from?"

"Charlie doesn't know anything yet," Edward said seriously, taking my hand. "The hospital staff has not yet informed him of your escape. They're in quite a bind, actually. They can't report you missing or kidnapped without drawing attention to their questionable practices, and your missing admission paperwork will only draw more suspicion. It will look like an inside job. Of course, that won't last, and we'll have to figure something out for Charlie's benefit. But for now, he's better than he would be if he thought you'd been kidnapped."

I sighed heavily. "I can't see him yet, can I?" I hated putting him through this.

"No, love," Edward said quietly, taking both my hands in his, "not yet. But soon, I hope. It is absolutely critical that we do this right."

I could see the wisdom of this, though I hated it. "And the funeral?" I continued.

"Harry Clearwater was the only death in or around Forks last week," Edward replied. "He had a heart attack."

"Harry," I repeated quietly. "He's one of my dad's fishing buddies. They're about the same age, did you know that?" So maybe it was a good thing Charlie didn't know of my escape right away.

"He'll be okay," Edward reassured me. "Your father is strong."

"But I can't just leave him in limbo like this, Edward! He needs me. Or at least, he needs to know I'm okay, that I don't hate him. Heaven knows what those _people_ are telling him. This won't end well if we don't figure it out now."

Edward seemed to consider my words seriously. "You're right, but I just don't know how…"

"Let's go talk to Carlisle," I said, pushing myself up. "Now."

Edward nodded and got up with me. Arm in arm, he guided me downstairs to Carlisle's office. Edward pulled out his cellular phone as we walked. His jaw moved rapidly, a sure sign he was speaking to another vampire. Esme was in the familiar room with Carlisle, waiting. They'd heard our conversation, I was sure.

"What can we do about Charlie?" I asked immediately. "I can't abandon him."

"I know," Carlisle said. "I've been thinking about the whole situation. We can't just keep you here indefinitely and hope the hospital comes up with a story that will work in our favor. Even that place has to undergo an inspection sometime, and all it takes is a headcount or a well-placed call from Charlie for the state to realize you're not there anymore."

"What happens if Charlie thinks she's been kidnapped?" Esme asked.

"The FBI would get involved in a heartbeat," I said with absolute certainty. "It's a federal crime."

"Which means we'd be implicated if she were traced back to us," Edward said. He looked at me searchingly. "We could disappear easily, Bella, but you'd have to make a choice."

Run away with Edward, or return to my father. He didn't have to say it; I knew. And it was not a choice I was prepared to commit to today, while I was still so unsure of what had happened to me, whose decision it was to have me hospitalized, or what it would take for me to be well again. I knew I couldn't live through another separation from Edward, but could I hurt Charlie _this way_ and live with the guilt?

"What other options do we have?" I asked, looking at everyone in turn.

"If he thinks you ran away, he'll still issue a manhunt," Edward spoke. He was right, of course; Charlie would use all his resources to find me if I were missing.

"If that were the case, would he think to look for her here?" Esme asked, concern spreading across her face.

"Not necessarily, although I wouldn't be too surprised if he came for a visit, especially now that we're officially back," Carlisle answered.

"Wait," I interrupted, "you're coming back? Working at the hospital, I mean?"

"Yes, Bella. Once I examined you and read your file, I knew we'd have to stay here to help you recover," he said compassionately. "That means I need to be able to explain our presence here, and the easiest way is to say we missed Forks and came back from L.A. I start back at work on Monday."

They were staying for _me._

"Won't the timing be suspicious, then, if she claims to have run away right now, just as we've arrived?" Edward asked. His eyes were still on me, evaluating my face.

"Yes, possibly," Carlisle answered, "but we can't let this go too long, either. If Bella or Charlie want to pursue charges against St. Vincent's, that's easier to do before all the physical evidence of abuse heals and is no longer visible. The photographs we took may not be admissible."

Photographs?

Carlisle caught my shocked expression, and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Bella. You were fairly compliant during the examination, or as much as you could be under the circumstances, and I thought it best to gather what evidence I could, just in case."

I decided to let it go. We had more important things to deal with.

"Can't I just say I don't want to press charges?" I tried. That wasn't a road I wanted to travel—I simply wasn't up for it. "I'm eighteen; I can speak for myself."

"True," Carlisle spoke slowly, "but the last time you were evaluated by a state-approved psychologist, you were deemed mentally incompetent. It doesn't matter if you're a legal adult; to the state, you're still a mental patient unfit to care for herself."

"But they hurt me in there! Doesn't that matter?" My voice shook.

"Yes, it does," Carlisle replied in a careful, soothing tone. "But that doesn't mean you'll be allowed to stay with us if Charlie knows where you are and decides to pursue the matter legally."

"But you're a doctor!" I cried desperately. "Can't I be legally placed under your care or something?"

Carlisle considered this for a moment. "Possibly. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I might still be allowed to do it. But it would only work if Charlie were willing to go along with it. And I'm not sure how you being a runaway will help convince him."

"Carlisle," Esme said quietly, "what if you can get the staff at St. Vincent's to participate in an illusion? Convince them to transfer Bella's paperwork to you, remand her to your custody officially. That gets them out of a tough spot, and we'd be able to keep Bella safely here with us where she can see her father." There was a hint of revulsion in her face.

"That's not so simple to arrange. I might not receive state approval," Carlisle answered.

"We'd be subject to blackmail and complicit in St. Vincent's abuse, and they'd get away with everything they've done," Edward said blackly. I detected a low growl building in his throat.

"How about this?" I breathed. Edward had inspired me. "Bribe the doctor, or blackmail him, whichever, into signing mental competency and release papers. I'm old enough that he wouldn't be legally obligated to contact my family. I'll say I came straight here, and you're willing to take me in. Charlie can come see me once in a while, when I'm having a good day, and at least be satisfied that I'm closer to home."

"Bella," Carlisle said delicately, "so far your lucidity is unpredictable at best. You haven't been here long enough for us to predict when you'll have a good day, and I don't know when you'll be fully recovered."

"We have a secure line she could call Charlie from," Esme said thoughtfully. "It won't trace back to us, or even to Forks. Suppose you just call him when you're feeling well, Bella? At least for the first little while."

"And if you're not officially here with us," Carlisle added, "then there won't be any expectations for you to be at school. You can always go to summer school later to complete your graduation requirements."

"Will it work?" Edward said, lifting his phone back to his ear, keeping his face blank. I hadn't realized he was still speaking to anyone on the line. He looked up at me, and the ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Alice says the doctor will respond better to blackmail than to money. Everyone knows he's wealthy, but only a select few people know he's sadistic."

I repressed a reaction at the last word. Instead I loudly asked "Will Charlie buy it?" in the direction of Edward's phone.

Edward listened. "She can't be sure what his long-term reaction will be, but he'll be relieved to hear from you." He listened again. "Carlisle, you should go meet Dr. McCoig tonight at the Pacifico in Seattle. He'll be the only one at the bar, and the alcohol will make him particularly receptive. Here, Alice needs to tell you more." Edward handed his father the phone, and turned to look at me. His eyes were speculative.

"So I can stay?" I breathed at him, my own eyes hopeful.

This seemed to be exactly what he needed. Relief washed across his face, and he pulled me into his arms with abandon. "Yes, love," he whispered, kissing my hair just above my ear. "You can stay as long as you need."

Esme came around the desk to hug me as well, and I felt so loved and relieved in that moment I could have burst into a thousand stars. I threw Carlisle a smile and a quiet thanks before Edward led me out of the office.

Edward _wanted_ me to stay, and he was clearly thrilled that I wanted to remain. He was earning the forgiveness he sought, piece by piece.


	4. Therapy

**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. Any other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name. References to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental and unintentional.  
**A/N: **Special thanks, as always, to sirah87 for her valuable advice and opinions.  
Even more thanks to adair7 for so many great reviews, to j3n, and to everyone who took even just a moment to leave a review or add my story to their favorites and alerts.

This chapter inspired by the music of Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Second author's note to follow.  
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Chapter 4 Therapy

_No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear._

~C.S. Lewis

That evening after Carlisle left I found myself suddenly very tired. It had been an eventful day. Draped across Edward's chest again in his room, I reached for the blanket thrown across the back of the couch as I stifled a yawn. Edward's quick hands beat me to it, and I was swathed in the plush fabric and cradled in his arms before I knew it. It was easy and natural, dozing in his embrace, and for a brief time it was as though he'd never left. I heard him turn off the stereo and hum my lullaby before I drifted into slumber.

My dream started out peacefully enough. Edward and I sat together on his sofa, not really doing anything but holding hands and looking out the window. I felt relaxed, happy.

The view from the window changed. Trees gave way to a waterscape. The gold walls faded to white, the carpet became hospital tile, and the couch changed to an uncomfortable twin bed. I looked up at Edward in alarm, only to find Dr. McCoig staring at me with a strange smile. Something sparked in his hand, something that promised burning.

I was screaming in the dark, struggling to get away from the evil monster who wanted to burn and sear me, but something was holding me down. Lamplight suddenly flooded the room, and there were voices and cold hands trying to touch me, but I did not want them, and still I screamed and thrashed, kicked out at anything that came near me. As the screams turned to less noisy sobs, I heard two of the voices arguing about sedatives.

"No."

"Edward, look at her. She's going to hurt herself if we don't calm her down."

"She just finished detoxifying."

"Son, please. This one is very mild."

"No, Carlisle. I promised."

I wanted to thank Edward for protesting on my behalf, but Dr. McCoig's smile grew wider behind my eyes, and no one was stopping him.

_The derivative of 2x^3 + 4x^2 is 6x^2 + 8x._

"Bella?"

_The derivative of x^4 + 6x^3 + 2x is 4x^3 + 18x^2 +2._

"What is she doing?"

_The derivative of x^2 + x + 1 is 2x + 1._

The smile faded.

_Three squared is nine. Three cubed is twenty-seven. Three to the fourth power is nine squared is eighty-one._

"Bella, love?"

And it was daylight, and I was standing in a corner of Edward's room at the window, alone.

My palms were pressed lightly against the window, so I merely had to shift my eyes to check my watch.

4:15 P.M.

Saturday

March 20th.

I'd lost just over 36 hours.

Slowly, carefully, I inclined my head to the left to see whose eyes I felt trained on me.

Jasper.

Eyes widening in shock, I pressed into the wall behind me, sending several dozen CDs clattering to the floor. I only vaguely registered Edward's presence in the room. The last time I'd seen Jasper, he'd been trying to kill me on my 18th birthday. Not that I held a grudge about that—he hadn't done it on purpose—but it had been the catalyst for Edward's decision to leave me.

And I wasn't entirely convinced Jasper might not accidentally lose control again and ruin whatever it was I had with Edward now.

Edward was at my side instantaneously, not in a defensive position but trying to comfort me. Grateful, I leaned into him, locking my arms around his waist, my eyes not leaving Jasper.

The honey-blonde vampire sat perfectly still, his eyes not leaving me, either, evaluating me, tasting my mood. As he did this, I examined him in turn. His eyes were a rich gold, the skin under them marble white and smooth. Not thirsty. That was reassuring, at least.

Jasper's gaze flickered to Edward, and I looked up, too. Edward seemed relieved.

"Bella," he said breathlessly, looking back down at me. He looked extraordinarily happy to see me, as if I'd been away for a long time. He kissed my forehead softly before speaking again.

"Bella, Jasper is here to help you."

I looked back at Edward's brother and wondered how he planned to accomplish such a task. Changing my moods for brief periods of time did not seem like a permanent solution.

Jasper, sensing my doubt, smiled wryly. "Welcome back, Bella," was all he said.

This seemed an odd greeting, as I'd arrived here first, but it had been a long time since we'd seen each other, and we'd both been away. "Likewise," I answered. "Did you just arrive?"

He glanced at Edward briefly, his face blank. "Yesterday."

Hmm. What else had I missed? "And Alice?" I had not seen my best friend in so long; talking to her was an exciting prospect.

Jasper frowned now. "She's well. She'll be joining us later."

Did that mean she was already here, or that she was on the way?

Without looking away from Jasper, I asked, "Who else is here, Edward?"

His voice was troubled. "Just Alice. Carlisle and Esme are out hunting. Rosalie and Emmett are in Ithaca just now."

Not having to see Rosalie was a relief, at least. I didn't expect her thinly veiled animosity toward me to have changed with time or distance. It would have been nice to see Emmett, though.

"Bella," Jasper began, interrupting my thoughts. "What's the last thing—?"

Edward snarled, his arms snaking around my body in a way that felt both protective and restraining. I glanced up at him quickly, surprised by the fury in his face. Where was the danger? Had Jasper been about to…?

Then it clicked: Jasper wanted to ask me _that_ question, the one that made me come undone.

But Edward had promised I'd never have to go back to that place, that he'd never let anyone hurt me again.

And I believed him.

"Edward," I said softly.

He looked down into my face, and whatever he saw there relaxed him somewhat. He loosened his hold, but did not release me.

"What's going on here?" I demanded quietly. "What did you mean before, about Jasper being here to help me?"

Edward's gaze returned to his brother for a long moment before he answered. His voice was strained. "Bella, you're still not well, and I cannot read your thoughts to help you. Jasper is here to help us understand what's happening to you so we can help you heal."

I let that sink in for a minute.

"So I should answer his questions, then?" I made my deduction a question.

Edward's face was difficult to read. He seemed torn, and I wondered why. Was he afraid of the answers?

"Yes," he said finally, moving his arms up to a loose hold around my shoulders. "If you can."

I thought another minute. Could I trust Jasper? Did I even have a choice? He was already here, so he'd know everything that went on in the house no matter how quietly I spoke. Staying silent was tempting, but I knew I'd never make any progress if I didn't talk things out. And letting Jasper assist would be easier than working around him.

But what if he took another snap at me? Would Edward leave again?

That possibility, more than anything else, would kill me for certain. The ghost of the hole ached dully in my chest, and I let go of Edward to hold myself together in response.

"You're worried," Jasper said quietly. "And…" he seemed to be searching for the right descriptor, "…anticipating pain?"

I clutched my arms tighter, though the pain had not manifested into anything more. "Yes," I said slowly, "that's right." Edward's arms curled tightly around my torso again, and the echo of pain vanished.

I looked up at him, "Can we sit down, please?"

Edward buzzed at his brother, then nodded at me. Jasper got up from the sofa and moved to stand by the door before Edward and I crossed the room to sit together on the couch. Edward's arms never left my body.

"Now let's get one thing straight," I began. "If you expect me to do this, I will not have you speaking in voices I can't hear. It doesn't exactly foster trust, and I'm sure this won't work if I don't feel comfortable enough to be honest. If you must have a private conversation, save it for later. Otherwise, use a human speed and volume, please."

Jasper smiled in amusement, and Edward looked mildly stunned but chuckled slightly. "We can accommodate you," Edward said quietly.

I sighed and turned my mind back to Jasper's last statement. I felt embarrassed to answer because he was part of the problem.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Jasper said immediately, puzzled.

I shook my head. This had to be the strangest therapy session in psychiatric history. "Jasper," I answered, "some of the things I say will be about you, and I don't want to offend you in any way."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and I felt Edward turn his head to look at me.

"Don't worry about that," Jasper replied. "Just be truthful. Tell us why you were worried just now."

I shut my eyes and leaned into Edward. He kissed my hair, letting his face linger there.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if you attack me again," I whispered. "I know it wasn't your fault the first time, and that you felt awful. I don't blame you in the slightest; it was just an accident. But last time… I don't want Edward to leave again. I can't survive that twice."

"Bella, I will never—!" Edward began in a rush, but Jasper cut him off.

"Why do you think Edward left you the first time?"

Edward hissed, and Jasper spoke over him. "Edward, this is important. The rest of us knew your intentions, but she did not. Obviously it was a traumatizing experience for her if she wound up in the E.R. and a mental institution. And clearly she is afraid it may happen again. We need to know _why_, or this is never going to end."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Jasper make.

"Let me answer," I said before Edward could form another objection. I swallowed hard and pulled away from Edward slightly. He lowered one arm, but left the other wrapped around my shoulders.

"When Edward left," I began softly, "he told me I wasn't good for him. I had always known I wasn't good enough. I'm too human, too weak. I caused problems for your family. Rosalie and Emmett left because of me, and then you… well, you remember. I wasn't enough to hold him, and I'm no different now, except that I'm even weaker. Edward has been so good to me, but I'm still exactly what I was before, and it's not enough." I paused to take a breath. "Edward says he'll never leave again, and I want that to be true, but he had his reasons for leaving the first time, and I can't see that any of those have changed. Especially now that you're here, Jasper."

Jasper looked alert, interested, and non-judgmental throughout my monologue, and now he turned to Edward with the same expression. "Any response, Edward?"

I shifted to look at him. My hands still gripped my arms, guarding against the inevitable. He looked absolutely dumbfounded.

"Bella, I told you this already. I didn't leave because there was anything wrong with you, or because of some ridiculous deficiency in my life, or even because of family strife. I left because I thought my world was too dangerous for you, and no other reason. I have always loved you, only you, and I always _will_ love you. I _want_ you, Bella."

My heart ached to believe it, but I couldn't let myself hope.

"She doesn't believe you," Jasper said, sounding detached.

Edward and I both looked at him, then back at each other.

"Why?" Edward demanded, sounding truly desperate now. "Why can't you believe me? Don't you know what you are to me?"

I looked at him carefully. He was being sincere, but I didn't see how that changed anything. "Is your world any less dangerous now? Even if I let myself believe that you left only because you love me, what's to stop you from leaving again? A guilty conscience? Fear of more disasters? If you think it's the right thing to do, you'll leave me." And I would die. Quickly this time.

"I _can't_ leave you Bella. Even if I wanted to, I could never do it again. It's too much…it's just so…" Edward looked helplessly at Jasper.

"Edward," Jasper said after a moment's consideration, "tell Bella about the pain."

"Pain?" I said sharply, peering into Edward's eyes, searching for evidence of such a thing. "What pain? Who hurt you?"

"I did," Edward said quietly, "when I left you. I ripped out everything that was good in me and left it behind. It was just…there was a crater where my heart used to be, and every day more would be gouged out, carved away. I couldn't walk, I couldn't move, I couldn't think of anything but you, your face. Nothing mattered anymore except filling this empty space with you, with your essence, with your love. That's why I came back, and that's why I'll never be able to leave you again. You can't imagine the excruciating pain, Bella."

For two full minutes I sat absolutely still, unable to move, blink, or do anything but stare. They waited for me to speak.

"Actually," I finally said, "I can."

I had no more words than that. None could break through the jarring shock of reopened wounds.

His talk of "distractions" had all been lies. He'd writhed in the same agony I had, although he had no numbing haze with which to protect himself. It physically tortured me to watch his face as he told me of his void that matched my own, making the fault line in my chest hiss and seep in response, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to erase all his suffering for eternity.

"She can empathize," Jasper said finally, seeing that I was beyond speech. "She felt exactly the same way. And I do mean exactly." Jasper looked at me curiously, in a way I didn't entirely understand. "Very unusual for a human. I didn't think your kind was capable of our bonding or our separation response, and I certainly didn't expect that you could survive it."

"I nearly didn't," I whispered, finding my voice again, still awed, my eyes on Edward. I didn't really think about what I was saying. "If it hadn't been for the haze, I would never have lasted as long as I did."

"The haze?" they said in unison.

Just then my stomach growled furiously. I realized I couldn't recall when my last meal had been. "Oh, wow, I guess it's time for dinner." My voice still possessed a dreamlike quality. "Can we stop for today? I need to eat before this gets painful."

Edward rose from the couch with me, his right arm still around my shoulders. I did not miss the significant glance he exchanged with Jasper, but I was too dazed from our session to press for an interpretation.

Edward took my hand with his free one, holding me and guiding me along as we followed Jasper down the stairs. I felt dizzy and light, though I should be horrified. Edward in so much pain was an unbearable thought, but to find that he truly loved me still, had never stopped, and could no more stand to be separated again than I could—it was uplifting.

Jasper seemed to be smiling as he reached the second floor landing. I looked up at Edward's face, furrowed in concentration for a moment before suddenly grinning. It was such a relief to see that crooked smile I loved that I was suddenly soaring. And then his smile changed to something even deeper, more joyous, and he seemed to be soaring, too.

It wasn't until we reached the first floor that I noticed the sound of silvery laughter and turned in time to see a tiny black and white blur streak toward me.

"Alice!" I cried, overjoyed. "Oh, Alice! I missed you so much." I hugged her close, not caring that her spiky hair poked my neck and tickled my nose.

Alice kissed my cheek and stood back to look at me. "Now _that's_ the hello I was looking for. You're looking so much better today, Bella."

My smile faltered. Had I been rude to Alice yesterday? "I'm sorry, Alice. I haven't been myself lately." I ducked my head a little in shame.

I felt Edward's eyes on me, but I took Alice's hand and said, "I'm starved. Come talk to me in the kitchen."

Alice answered my questions while I made turkey sandwiches. She seemed confused when I asked where she'd been all this time, but she smoothed her face almost instantly and told me what she'd learned about her human life. Mary Alice Brandon. One sister, Cynthia, who produced a daughter still alive in Biloxi. It seemed like Alice was holding something back—probably details about the asylum she'd lived in before being changed. It also seemed like she was repeating things she expected me to know. I guessed that she must have said these things the previous day during my haze, so I changed the subject when she seemed through. Edward and Jasper stood absolutely still on the other side of the kitchen, watching me with blank faces.

"So what's the story? When is my release paperwork going through so I can call Charlie?"

Alice cocked her head to one side and let her eyes go blank for several seconds. "Your paperwork will be official on Wednesday, at which time Carlisle will pick it up and bring it back to you. Until then, if Charlie or Renee call, the staff has been instructed to say that your condition is greatly improved, but that you still don't wish to speak with either of them."

"Great! So I can call him Wednesday!"

"I think you might want to wait a few extra days," Alice said with a hint of doubt. "You should think about what story you're giving him for why you haven't spoken to him and aren't coming home right away. That's a pivotal conversation, and you don't want to screw it up."

"Aw, come on, Alice! Can't you help me dream something up?" I pleaded.

"Later, Bella. Right now, we need to talk about your shoe issues." She'd noticed my bare feet.

After a dinner conversation about footwear, I asked Edward to play his piano for me. Alice joined him with her harmonies while Jasper and I applauded, and the pale house felt very much alive.

As the hour grew later and my yawns came more frequently, I wandered back into the kitchen in search of soda.

"Damn, nothing but Sprite," I grumbled. No iced tea or chocolate milk, either. I thought for a second and went for the pantry. _Doctors drink lots of coffee to stay awake, right?_ I asked myself. Maybe Carlisle would have some at home as part of his human charade.

"Ha! Jackpot," I said to myself as I found the red coffee can and a bag of coffee filters. I turned to search for the coffee maker and jumped, nearly dropping everything in my hands. Edward stood two feet from me, arms folded, a disapproving expression on his face.

"It's a little late for a coffee break, Bella," he chided me.

"Oh, I know," I said, smiling, resisting the urge to bite my lip. "I just want to stay up a while longer. It's been so long since I had _fun_, I don't want the night to end."

Edward's dubious look melted. "Oh, I hadn't realized…of course. But you still shouldn't have coffee so late." He took the coffee things from me. "Go have fun. I'll bring you something."

"Don't be long," I told him, smiling again before slinking out of the kitchen.

I went to find Alice again to ask her to do my hair, something I had never actively requested before. Naturally, she had already armed herself with a small basket of brushes, combs, and assorted hair accessories, and I sat on the floor in front of her spot on the couch. I found some stupid comedy on TV to watch, something appropriate for a slumber party. I saw Jasper staring at me from across the room, but I kept my focus on the ridiculous, plotless movie. It wasn't the kind of thing I normally watched, but it did keep my eyes open.

Edward eventually came to sit on the floor beside me with a cup of hot tea. I thanked him and sipped at it. "More sugar in the next one, please."

He raised an eyebrow at me and nodded. His eyes slid to Jasper.

When the movie finally ended, Edward took my hand and nearly dragged me upstairs, claiming Alice and Jasper needed time alone. I yawned again and checked my watch.

2:03 A.M.

Sunday

March 21

I searched through Edward's CD collection until I found something that promised to be fast and violent. Not sure how to operate Edward's complicated stereo, I handed him the disc.

"Interesting choice," Edward said. "Any particular reason you picked this one?"

"Oh yes," I said archly. "To give Alice and Jasper some privacy. I'm sure they'd rather not have an audience."

Edward looked surprised. I smirked at him.

"How about something that won't kill the mood when they hear it?" he suggested, turning back to the shelves. Five seconds later a guitar-laden blues instrumental filled the room.

"Nice," I complimented. I turned to look out the window.

Edward turned off the lamp behind me, and the room was instantly lit only by moonlight. His arms wound lovingly around me from behind, and I felt him bury his face in my hair. "Why don't you sit down with me?" Edward asked softly.

"No thanks. I sat for two hours straight watching that stupid movie. My back is sore."

"Hmm," Edward muttered. "I should get you a bed. It can't be too comfortable on my couch every night."

I shrugged. "It's not so bad. I'd just rather stand right now."

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down somewhere else? There are a few free beds you could use."

I smiled ruefully. "I don't think anyone here wants my human scent in their bed."

He paused. "You could sleep alone if you prefer. I understand if you want some privacy."

"No!" I said quickly, panicking. "Don't leave me. Please."

"Shh, Bella, of course not," Edward soothed. "I'm delighted to stay." He sighed then. "Bella, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything you aren't ready for. Your recovery is my first priority. I have no expectations of you physically. I love you, and I want to earn your trust and forgiveness. Everything else can wait."

"Thank you," I whispered. "I'm working on it." I leaned back into him. "I love you," I murmured. Was that the first time I'd said that since his return?

Edward held me tighter for a long minute and kissed the back of my head a few times. The affection put a smile on my face. I relaxed into his arms even more and stood quietly for a long time, just staring out the window.

Finally I asked, "Can we change the music? This CD is making me sleepy."

"Bella," Edward said reproachfully, "it's three in the morning. You really should get some rest."

"I'm fine," I said more firmly. "Just put something else on."

"You're exhausted, Bella. You can hardly stand up; I've been supporting your weight for the last half hour."

"I said I'm fine," I snapped. Edward tensed, and I instantly regretted my harsh tone. "I'm sorry," I murmured, "that came out wrong." I sighed heavily. "I think I'll go take a shower."

I tried to move toward the door, but my body suddenly felt heavy and lopsided. Edward caught me before I even realized I was falling.

"That's it for you," he said firmly. "Time for bed." He carried me to the couch.

"No," I slurred, fighting my droopy eyelids. "I'm not ready for bed. I need a shower and pajamas." It took me a whole minute before I realized we were already lying down, the blanket wrapped securely around my body.

"Please get some sleep, Bella," Edward crooned as he stroked my face. His sweet breath made it difficult for me to breathe normally, and his velvet voice was very persuasive.

"No," I shook my head weakly. "I want to stay awake with you."

"Sleep, my love."

Unable to resist any longer, I closed my eyes.

A light sparked menacingly in the darkness, and a wide, sadistic smile waited for me, just as I'd known it would.

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**A/N:** Edward's stereo--"Electric Lullaby" by Kenny Wayne Shepherd, but feel free to substitute your own song in your imagination!


	5. Hypnotic

**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. Any other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name. References to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental and unintentional.  
**A/N:** Thank you to all you wonderful people who have reviewed and added my story to your lists. Second author's note to follow.

**Warning:** This chapter contains descriptions of abuse.

_Previously:_

_"No," I shook my head weakly. "I want to stay awake with you."_

_"Sleep, my love."_

_Unable to resist any longer, I closed my eyes._

_A light sparked menacingly in the darkness, and a wide, sadistic smile waited for me, just as I'd known it would._

* * *

Chapter 5 Hypnotic

_Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is freedom._

~Marilyn Ferguson

I was screaming at dawn, trying to escape the stinging burns that rippled through me. Arms held me down and voices tried to soothe me, as usual.

A wave of calm hit me quite suddenly, and my screams ceased, although the sobbing continued. I hid my face in Edward's chest and tried to force the painful images away.

"Bella," Jasper's voice floated through the air, "I need you to tell me about your dream."

"No," I said weakly. "I can't. Not yet."

"Please, Bella," Jasper said calmly.

"She said no, Jasper. Give her some time," Edward's closer voice shot back.

"We need to know what we're dealing with, Edward. You saw how she was last night, trying every trick she could think of to avoid sleep. We can't make it stop unless we know what it is."

"It's too soon, damn it! She's only been here a week. She hasn't even been _awake_ for two minutes. Back off."

"Stop being so damned overprotective! You're just feeding into her fears."

I covered my ears. The tranquility was gone, and the phantom burns stung fresh and inescapable along my spine and across my chest. The smile returned.

"Shut up, both of you!" Alice shouted over the building growls.

_The derivative of x^2 + x + 2 is 2x + 1._

"She's doing it again."

_The derivative of x^3 + x^2 + x + 1 is 3x^2 + 2x + 1._

"How is she doing that?"

_The derivative of x^4 + x^3 + x^2 + x + 1 is 4x^3 + 3x^2 + 2x + 1._

The burns began to fade.

"What is it?"

_The derivative of x^5 + x^4 + x^3 + x^2 + x + 1 is 5x^4 + 4x^3 + 3x^2 + 2x + 1._

"She's anesthetizing herself. I've never seen…"

_The derivative of x^6 + x^5 + x^4 + x^3 + x^2 + x + 1 is 6x^5 + 5x^4 + 4x^3 + 3x^2 + 2x + 1._

The smile began to vanish.

"Bella? Wake up, Bella. Jasper, do something!"

_The derivative of x^7 + x^ 6 + x^5—_

"Oh!" I cried. Vivid excitement shot through my body like a bolt of lightning. I rocked back onto the balls of my feet, tensed and ready to spring. My eyes swept the room, processing information quickly. Edward sat up on the couch below me, face frozen in surprise. Alice stood beside him, arms outstretched toward me, her expression equally surprised, and that was really saying something. Jasper stood by the door, his position wary, his eyes evaluating, calculating. Blocking the only exit. I shifted my eyes to the window lock.

"Bella, no!" Alice screeched, flitting to my side and taking my hand. "You don't need to do that. No one here will hurt you. Jazz!" she hissed over her shoulder. "Leave now!" Alice looked at me again. "You're safe, Bella. We love you. Please calm down."

The door shut behind Jasper, taking all the excitement with him. I collapsed into a heap, Alice catching me and rubbing my back as fresh sobs erupted. Edward was there, too, holding me, whispering that he loved me, begging me to be calm.

I didn't even know _why_ I was crying anymore. It had been such an overwhelming morning already, though barely ten minutes had passed, and according to my watch I'd only had about three hours of sleep. But this crying jag ended quickly, and before long I wanted to clean up and eat breakfast.

I kept quiet most of the day, sitting on a comfortable chair on the porch and taking twenty-minute power naps here and there. Nothing long enough for me to have a dream. Edward hovered nearby but did not approach or disturb me, nor did he allow Jasper to come too close. Alice brushed my hair again but did not speak much.

"Alice?" I said in a small voice as I breathed in the free air.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Can you check on Charlie for me?"

"Of course," she smiled. Her eyes went blank for a few seconds. "He's going to catch his limit today."

"That's nice. Anything else?"

She looked again, her face neutral. "He's with a dark-haired man in a wheelchair…Billy, right?"

"Billy Black," I reminded her. "His best friend."

"He'll watch a basketball game at Billy's house and have dinner there. Billy seems to be a better cook than Charlie."

"That's good," I replied. I was glad my father could find some measure of peace.

Carlisle and Esme returned from their hunting trip with something I had not expected: a small moving truck. I watched in awe as Esme effortlessly carried a king-sized box spring in the house and up the stairs…using only one hand.

I watched from the closet doorway as Edward and Carlisle set up my new bed in Edward's room. It wasn't comical the way sit-coms are, with the men arguing over slot A, tab B, and L-shaped brackets. The funny part was how quickly they worked, their hands sometimes blurring a little as they bolted large sections of wrought iron together. It was like watching an instructional video in fast forward. Within fifteen minutes I had a beautiful, immensely comfortable place to rest, with a gold duvet cover to luxuriate on and flowered arches over the bed to draw my eyes.

Normally I hated gifts, but I didn't want to be rude, especially not to people who'd been so kind and generous to me. And I really did want to sleep in an actual bed for a change. I kissed Esme, Carlisle, and Edward on their cheeks, offered profuse thanks, and settled quite happily on my bed. It was the most cheerful I'd felt all day. Edward thanked his parents as they left the room, then closed the door and slowly turned to face me.

My smile faded at the look on his face. He was full of the ancient sadness again, and I did not understand why.

"Edward?" I said hesitantly. "What's wrong? Did I do something?" I should not have been so melancholy all day.

"No, love, don't worry. You're not the problem. I am." He walked to his couch, sank down in the center, hunched over, and buried his face in his hands.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, sliding off the bed and rushing to stand in front of him. I threw my arms around him without even thinking about it.

Edward wrapped his arms around my waist and legs and pressed his face into my stomach. He said nothing, and I ran my fingers through his unruly bronze hair. It was so soft and beautiful, and I was glad he never seemed to be able to comb it down.

"Please don't be sad," I said quietly. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Edward sighed and looked up at me. "I spoke to Carlisle about what happened this morning. He thinks that although Jasper was a little too eager, he was still correct in principle. I'm not helping you by being so overprotective; I'm just making it harder for you to heal."

"Does Jasper have a psychology degree that I'm unaware of?" I countered. Really, why did he have to make Edward feel _bad_ for trying to help me?

"He has two, in fact," Edward replied. "He could be a licensed psychotherapist right now if he had better control of his thirst."

"Oh," I said, mollified. "But still, that's no excuse for him to be a jerk about it. This morning was just weird, and the situation was too hard to control. It's not your fault I had a nightmare."

"Yes, Bella, it _is_ my fault," he moaned. "All of this hell you're going through is my doing, and instead of setting things right I'm making everything worse."

"Always so quick to take the blame for everything. Edward, the only way you could make things worse now would be to leave me again. If it weren't for you, I'd be…" I trailed off and shuddered at the end of the thought. My arms wound tightly around Edward's head, and I pulled myself as close to him as I could manage.

Edward tightened his hold in response. It felt good. Secure. "Never," he said. "I can never be without you again."

I wondered exactly how he meant that.

Edward sighed then, and said, "Come in," though I'd heard no knock.

Jasper walked in slowly. "Bella, do you feel like having a session today?"

I was dreading the questions I knew he'd ask, but he'd been right about his overall point this morning. I would have to work through the dreams to make them stop. But was I in a good place for that?

"Are you certain it's not too soon?" I asked hesitantly.

Jasper appraised me. "Now is perfect."

I nodded in compliance, and he walked further into the room, passing by me to station himself at the window. My path to the door was clear, and it struck me that this was probably intentional. Did Jasper expect me to try the window? Had Alice told him I might?

"Bella," he said, interrupting my puzzlement, "who would you like to be here with you today?"

My hands twisted tightly into the bronze hair in front of me. "Edward, of course." I felt Edward cling to the small of my back.

Jasper nodded. "Anyone else?"'

I deliberated. The burning sensation I dreamt about was troubling, and I wanted some rational explanation for it. "Carlisle?" I called.

A second later Carlisle was at the door. He seemed to hesitate a moment before taking up a position by the shelves directly across the room from me. If the bed had been longer, it would have been between us. I pulled out of Edward's embrace and sat down beside him on the couch, positioning myself on the end closest to the door. I knew that they could all easily catch me if I ran, no matter where they stood, but I still didn't like being surrounded.

"Carlisle," Jasper said, "come stand with me. Bella feels boxed in, and I need her to be comfortable."

I sighed as Carlisle moved, wondering if this would hurt very much. Edward took my hand. I focused on the treetops visible through the window.

"Before we begin," Jasper said softly, "let me apologize for this morning. I had no idea you would react that way, and I should have had more patience. I'm sorry I put you through so much distress."

"Don't worry about it, Jasper," I said smoothly. "It wasn't exactly a normal situation. No hard feelings."

Jasper smiled quickly, reached into his pocket, and nodded. "What would you like to talk about today?"

This surprised me. After the morning we'd had, what else would he be interested in besides the nightmare? "I-I'd like to talk about my dream, please," I stuttered.

"Is it always the same?"

I thought. "I've only been having this one since Thursday night."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, but kept to the current line of questioning. "How does this dream begin?"

"In a white room." Curiously, I was filled with an almost numbing sense of calm. I was absolutely comfortable answering Jasper's questions. "Sometimes there's a desk, or a bed. When there's a desk, I see picture frames on the wall and filing cabinets." I listened to the detached, dreamlike quality of my voice. I felt peaceful, as if the things I saw could not hurt me.

"Who is in the room with you?"

"The man who smiles."

"Tell me about him."

"He's older, going bald. Short like me. He wears glasses."

"Do you know his name?"

"His name tag says Dr. McCoig."

"What does he do?"

"He asks me questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"He wants to know about the nightmares."

"Do you tell him what he wants to know?"

"No."

"What else?"

"He wants to know about the pain." I felt my arms cross automatically.

"Are you in pain right now?"

"No."

"That's good. What happens when he asks you about the pain?"

"I brace myself for it."

"Do you answer him?"

"No. He doesn't want an answer. He wants to watch."

Someone growled nearby.

"Quiet. Bella, you are safe here. Please tell me what happens next."

"He talks about Edward." I clamped down harder on myself.

"Why does he do that?"

"He knows it will hurt. He likes to watch."

"Bella, tell me what he does next."

"He smiles. He waits."

"Anything else?"

"There's something in his pocket."

"What is it?"

"It's…black. It makes light."

"Is it a flashlight?"

"No. It…it burns."

"Bella? What does he do with it?"

"He touches me with it while he talks."

"Do you remember where?" Carlisle took over the questioning.

"My spine. My chest. My legs. Sometimes my arms, my stomach, or my neck."

"How long?"

"I can't remember. Long enough to leave marks."

"How many times?" Carlisle continued.

"No more than three. He never stings me more than three times. It's a rule."

"Do you know why he stings you?" Jasper asked.

"He wants to know where I can feel it. He says it's interesting."

Someone made a disgusted sound.

"Bella, what happens when he's done?" Carlisle spoke again.

"He has a syringe."

"Do you know what it contains?"

"Something to make me sleep. But it can't stop the pain. The hole in my chest is too strong. I feel it in my sleep."

There was a pause before Carlisle continued.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"He smiles. He calls for someone to take me away."

"Bella," Carlisle's voice was calm, "how often does he do this?"

This was not part of the dream, but I knew the answer. "Every three or four days. Sometimes more often."

There were three separate, sharp intakes of breath.

"Does he use the stun gun every time?"

"Yes."

"Does he use the syringe every time?"

"No. Sometimes he makes me swallow pills, or he gives me nothing. It's another rule. He doesn't want me addicted to any particular drug."

"Do you remember anything after that?" Jasper asked now.

"I think…" Something stirred, not part of the dream, not something the doctor did.

"That's enough," Carlisle said. "She's told us enough for now."

"The doctor always asks me the same question." This wasn't part of the dream, either.

"What question?" Jasper asked.

"What's the last thing I remember?"

"When does he ask you this?"

"Before every session."

There was a murmur I could not understand.

"Bella, you've done very well," Jasper said calmly. "We're going to stop soon. When you wake up, you will be calm and rested. You are perfectly safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Wake up, Bella."

Abruptly I opened my eyes. Funny, I hadn't remembered closing them.

"Bella?" said a worried, velvet voice to my immediate left.

Keeping very still, I shifted my focus to my left. Edward sat motionless beside me, his hands hovering over his lap. Beyond him, Jasper and Carlisle stood perfectly still, their faces compassionate.

"Bella?" Carlisle called gently. "Can you recall what just happened?"

"Yeah," I answered dazedly.

"How do you feel?" Carlisle asked.

I thought about it seriously. "I'm not sure yet. Some of that stuff wasn't in my dream."

"Repressed memories," Jasper said quietly.

I looked at Carlisle, and my voice came out flat. "The marks on my body. You saw all of them, didn't you? Even the burns. That's why you took pictures."

"Yes, Bella. When I examined you shortly after your arrival, I was more concerned with your detoxification and mental state than anything else, but the electrocution marks and extraordinary number of bruises and injection marks disturbed me greatly. I wanted to take a blood sample immediately and have it checked, but you became combative when I approached you with a syringe. I haven't wanted to bring up the details with you yet because I wasn't sure how you'd react. I apologize if I've upset you."

I nodded and waved my hand, unable to form more of a response than that or listen to anything else he had to say about drugs or recent blood work or scar tissue. I was too numb.

I wondered if this was what it felt like inside the haze. I couldn't really remember it, though I'd spent to better part of the last six months in it. How strange, the difference between actually being numb and only feeling as though I were.

Not wanting to think anymore, I rose from the couch, arms still crossed, and climbed into bed. I balled up in the center and shut my eyes.

I heard murmuring, followed by the quiet click of the door.

"Edward?" I called.

"I'm here, love," he responded quietly.

"Hold me."

And he was cradling me to his chest so quickly that I wondered if he'd already been there. I let the tears fall.

* * *

**A/N 2: **This chapter required lots of musical assistance, including (in random order): "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden, "Man in a Box" by Alice in Chains, "I Grieve" by Peter Gabriel, the music of Evanescence, and "Riverwide" by Sheryl Crow.

Please, if you've read this far, do me a favor and check out my other story, a one-shot called _Spider Loves Butterfly._


	6. Devotion

**Disclaimer:** Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Midnight Sun, as well as all characters therein, are all intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer. Portions of her work are reprinted, but no copyright infringement is intended. Any other copyrighted material will be credited at the end of the chapter in which it appears. References to St. Vincent de Paul Mental Hospital are fictitious, and are not representative of the St. Vincent de Paul Society or any other real hospital by that name. References to real people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental and unintentional.  
**A/N: **Thanks as always to sirah87 for her valuable advice, kindness, and patience.  
Thank you to all you wonderful people who have reviewed. You make my day! Second author's note to follow.

Musical inspiration: "While We Cry" by Kenny Wayne Shepherd

* * *

Chapter 6 Devotion

_Whatever I am offered in devotion with a pure heart…I accept with joy._

~Bhagavad Gita

Most of my mornings after that began with screams, unfortunately. Jasper usually came in with another member of the family to offer support in whatever way I needed, having worked out how to calm me enough to prevent me from seeking the haze. Not that either of us acknowledged the haze verbally, at least not to each other. I did hear him murmuring about it once in a voice he probably thought I couldn't hear; I could just make out a low swear and a word that sounded like "fyoog." Of course, Edward was always there holding me, promising that he loved me and that I was safe. It wasn't long before I found that his simple words combined with the strength of his scent were enough reassurance to stop the strange stinging on my skin, and I had no need of Jasper's gift or my equations.

I wondered if and when Jasper was planning another hypnosis session or even just a regular discussion about my memory dreams. Though he often looked at me wistfully after I'd calmed down from a nightmare, he didn't ask me anything more than whether the dreams had changed. I suspected Edward and Carlisle had something to do with that, especially after I noticed a few minute head shakes and narrowed eyes on their part before Carlisle checked my burns and swollen veins. Perhaps they preferred to wait for me to bring it up, or for the strength of the nightmare to fade. That was fine with me, as I didn't think rehashing the same unchanging dreams over and over every day after burning my way through them every night was going to make them go away. I didn't feel ready for that. Besides, I had other things to think about.

My "release" from St. Vincent's was scheduled for that Wednesday, and everyone seemed to have an opinion about what I should say to Charlie to make our illusion convincing.

"He's either going to call the hospital on Thursday evening or Friday morning," Alice said. It was Tuesday afternoon, and the family was gathered at the dining room table for our strategy session. "It's probably best if you let them break the news. He'll be upset, but it fits better with the story they've constructed about your being so opposed to speaking with him."

"But when can I call him?" I asked impatiently. I shuddered to think of him worried about me when I was so nearby and not in any danger.

"I think you should wait until Friday evening," Carlisle offered. "It gives you time to have found a cheap place to stay and an easy job. He'll probably still be worried about you, but at least you can convince him you aren't homeless and starving."

"I suppose so," I said doubtfully. "But what else should I tell him?"

"Keep the conversation short," Jasper advised. "He's been led to think you're still upset with him, so you'll have to pretend you don't really want to talk to him at all, and that you simply feel obligated for now."

_I _do_ want to talk to him_, I thought to myself, but this whole thing had been my idea, and I'd known it would involve lying to protect Charlie from the ugly truth. At least this way I could check on him.

"Make sure you ask him to pass along a message to your mother," Esme suggested. "You're not supposed to be speaking to her, either, but it would be cruel not to pass along a greeting, at least, if you're doing this much for Charlie."

"Renee," I murmured. "Won't Charlie call Renee when he finds out I'm released?" I felt a surge of panic. "Crap! If we thought Charlie was going to send out a search party, Renee is sure to call in the Marines." I had to remind myself—again—that there was a waiting period to file a missing person's report for an adult, that I was too old to be called a runaway or have an Amber Alert issued on my behalf, and that there was a difference between escaping a mental institution and being released from one. Charlie knew all these limitations, too, but Renee would need repetitive explanations.

"I can't be certain if Charlie will call her right away," Alice said, her left hand massaging her temple as she sifted through possible futures. "But I see that when she finds out, she'll be frantic." This was typical Renee behavior. Alice almost smirked for a moment. "I don't see her successfully alerting the military. In fact, I'm pretty sure Phil or Charlie would be able to calm her down long enough for you to wait until Friday to make your call."

"But what if she calls the hospital herself before Charlie does?" I asked. Renee was nothing if not prone to hysterics, and I knew she'd only get Charlie even more worked up if she found out before he did and try to force him to take immediate action.

"No, she won't," Alice said with certainty. "Her pattern is to call on Sunday mornings. And this week…" her eyes glazed over. "This week she'll have too much stress at work to want to break her pattern. Apparently there's a nasty stomach virus going around at her school." Her mouth twisted in mild disgust.

I'd never felt so grateful that a bunch of kindergarteners might get a case of the runs. I hoped Renee's clothes would survive.

"Should I call Renee, too, then?" I asked reluctantly. My relationship with her was such that I'd have to expend more effort to reassure her, and I didn't know if I could feign anger or indifference toward her after taking care of her my whole life.

"I don't think that would be wise," Edward said. "Renee is especially verbose and single-minded when it comes to you, and she would probably try to manipulate you into coming home, or at the very least trick you into revealing where you are." Again, this was exactly what Renee would do, and I simply wasn't up for it.

"It shouldn't surprise her too much that you're not calling," Jasper offered, "when you supposedly haven't wanted to speak to her in nearly two months."

"Fine," I sighed. "No calling Renee. So what else do I tell Charlie? Should I tell him I'm still in Seattle?"

"The number you'll be calling from," Carlisle said, "uses area code 509. You could be anywhere in the eastern half of Washington. If you don't want him setting out to look for you, though, I recommend you don't name any specific town." I nodded in agreement.

"My concern," Edward added, "is whether or not Bella will be convincing enough to pull this off." He grinned at me sheepishly. "You're a terrible liar, love."

"Says you," I retorted somewhat playfully, trying to lighten my mood. "Charlie won't see me blush or hear my heart rate increase." I looked at Jasper beseechingly. "You'll help me stay calm enough to lie, won't you?" I would live with the lying as long as Charlie was okay.

"Of course, Bella," Jasper said with a small smile.

"That's settled, then," Carlisle said encouragingly. The family meeting seemed to be closing.

"Thank you, everyone," I said, looking around the table, "for everything." Smiles met me from every direction, and Esme came around to my side of the table for a hug.

I kept my face even as the family moved on to their evening pursuits while I walked quietly to the kitchen to fix dinner for myself. Alice and Jasper wanted time alone and were headed out for a nighttime run. I didn't want anyone to see me worry. Here I was, preparing steamed chicken and mashed potatoes, receiving every bit of care and attention I could possibly need, while my poor father was only a few miles away doing awful things to his cholesterol levels with his steady diet of fried eggs, bacon, and whatever it was that he did to all those fish in the deep freezer, all alone.

Edward watched me from across the kitchen, his nose slightly wrinkled against the smell of human food. I could almost see his point, actually. I didn't want my food to taste bad, but I didn't care much about it tasting that good, either. It was simply sustenance, something I had to do. I wondered briefly when I'd started to regard food this way, but decided it was better not to pinpoint the change. I took my food back to the dining room and hunched over my dinner, my arms resting on the table on either side of the plate and my back to the only wall with no windows or doors. Edward stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded and watched me intensely as I ate.

"Something on your mind?" I asked him between rapid bites. The staring was making me self-conscious, though I should be accustomed to it by now.

"Why do you sit like that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

I shrugged my right shoulder. "Haven't I always?"

Edward shook his head, frowning slightly. "Your posture was similar the first day I saw you at school, but nowhere nearly this pronounced."

This was not a topic I felt the need to pursue. I shrugged again, ate my last bite of chicken, and rose from the table to take my plate to the sink—I refused to let anyone clean up after me in the kitchen. Edward moved out of my way but did not take his eyes off me as I moved. It was unnerving.

"Edward," I said, trying to deflect him, "how are Rosalie and Emmett? Are they on another honeymoon?"

It worked; he came to help me with the dishes as he spoke. "They were travelling through Europe until recently. Esme spoke to Emmett this morning. He and Rosalie haven't decided where to go next."

A wave of guilt coursed through me. I was keeping two of Esme's children from her simply because of my presence. And surely she was not the only one who missed them. Edward loved his brother dearly, and I could tell that something was missing from the family dynamic without Emmett and Rosalie to balance things out.

I couldn't do this to the family. I would not hurt these good people with my weakness. I was _alive_ because of them.

Slowly I formed the words, trying not to let my voice shake. "Maybe they'd like to come home."

Edward turned to look at me again. I kept my eyes on the skillet and scouring pad in front of me. He didn't seem to have a reply for me, so I continued. "Esme would like that, I think. Everyone would."

Slowly, Edward's hand reached for my chin and gently turned my face toward his. His eyes searched my features. "Would _you_?" he said simply.

I knew I wouldn't be able to hide the emotions playing across my face, my awkward fear of Rosalie, my nervousness, my wish to have my world ordered just so. But I would not give Rosalie more reasons to despise me, nor would I cause everyone else more pain, and so I was determined to make this work.

"I'd like to see them again," I said quietly, biting my lip. Then I sighed and decided to just be as honest as I could be. "Or at least, I'd like to see Emmett. I'm sure Rosalie's feelings about me haven't changed, but I think I can deal with that."

Edward's expression took on a familiar quality; it was the expression he'd always worn when trying to force his way, unsuccessfully, into my thoughts. "Why?" he asked quietly, his fingers still lingering on my chin.

His question surprised me. "They're part of the family. Don't you want them to be with us?"

Edward's face softened, and his hand moved up my jaw to cup my cheek. I leaned into his palm and sighed. It was such a reassuring thing, him touching me and looking at me this way. I could face whatever dirty looks Rosalie might have in store for me so long as this gentle wonder shined from Edward's eyes.

"Bella," he breathed, "you are an absolute angel."

I smiled. Silly vampire; didn't he know who the real angel was?

Edward looked as though he might lean down to kiss me, but our intimate moment was interrupted by a slamming door and a joyful shriek from the living room.

Alice danced into the kitchen, a dazzling smile on her face. "Em and Rose will be here Saturday! Isn't that wonderful?"

I could only smile back at the jubilation in her voice. No matter what Rosalie might say to me when she got here, I had no doubt that it was absolutely the right decision to reunite the family. Everyone should be as gloriously happy as Alice was right now.

"Yes," I replied as Edward lifted his phone to his ear, "it really is." I hoped Alice, at least, would write off my quickening pulse as excitement.

With all those worries addressed, if not eliminated, I had room in my head to focus on the new pattern I was trying to develop for my life. It wasn't pleasant one hundred percent of the time, but parts of it were peaceful.

Wednesday, after my daily screaming session was over, I spent the rest of the morning in independent study. Alice had rolled her eyes at me when I'd asked her to let me complete her school assignments now that she'd officially returned to Forks High School. It wasn't like she was learning anything new, I'd pointed out, so she might as well indulge me. She didn't want me to strain myself by adding unnecessary pressure, but since I wouldn't be taking her final exams, I didn't see how learning was the high-stress scenario she thought it should be for a human. Besides, I'd explained, just because I was nuts didn't mean I should neglect my education.

I didn't want to tell her that I was trying to find things to occupy my mind so I wouldn't think too much about my time in the hospital. If she figured it out on her own, she never let on.

Edward seemed especially delighted with this endeavor, probably because it made me seem more like my old self. He certainly made an excellent private tutor.

"And what about you, Mr. Cullen?" I teased Edward as we sat pouring over several reference books scattered on the living room floor. "Are you officially a drop-out? This has to be the first time in fifty years Alice has been at school alone." The other three Cullen siblings had all graduated the previous year, I remembered, and Edward had chosen to remain at home with me.

"No, Miss Swan," Edward replied with my favorite crooked grin. "I'm away at a boarding school in British Columbia. Forks High School just wasn't a stimulating enough learning environment."

I laughed at him and sighed. I didn't really miss high school per se, but I did miss learning new things. I didn't know how the others felt about it, but personally, I had found it wearing to be there, even back when I first transferred to Forks. All the ridiculous social interaction with Mike and Jessica and _Lauren_ got on my nerves.

Edward, thinking along similar but distorted lines, looked up at me with remorse in his eyes. "I've taken this away from you, too. You should be able to attend school like a regular human. You'd be with all your friends right now, picking out colleges and gearing up for prom, if it weren't for me."

I had to roll my eyes. "Edward, do you have any idea how much I loathed having to be around all those petty people and pretend to be normal every day, pretend to care about their trite nonsense? And as for _prom_, there's no way I'd bother with that again. The only thing that made any of that stuff bearable was you."

Edward had the strangest expression on his face. It reminded me quite unexpectedly of the way he had looked at me when I'd fainted in biology a year ago and had told him I could smell blood. He said nothing, however, and drew my attention back to a passage in a world economics textbook.

Afternoons were pleasant, for the most part. There was plenty to do if I wanted time alone; everyone seemed to have their own personal library, over which I was given free reign, and there were movies galore. Mostly, though, I spent time with Esme or Jasper, whoever was around, just talking about all the things they'd seen and done in their long lives. I'd always known I would love Esme; it was impossible not to. She taught me things about her architectural projects and made me feel like I was a part of her family rather than a guest in her house. Of course this meant I had to do my own laundry, but that too was beneficial; it made me feel like a regular Bella rather than a ruined one.

Jasper and I, amazingly enough, got along quite well. Sometimes he felt he had to keep his distance, but the near-constant proximity helped him desensitize to my scent. His understanding of emotions made for endlessly fascinating discussions. That, and he was glad to have someone else to play games with, since both Alice and Edward "cheated," as he put it. I quickly learned not to play poker with him alone, though; he could always tell when I was bluffing, and I racked up a huge imaginary debt within the first hour of playing. Alice liked to join us after school and even the odds, having the dexterity, speed, and foresight to bottom deal me a few winning hands.

And always, always, there was Edward, at my side almost constantly, quick to embrace me if I seemed in need of the slightest bit of comfort. I reveled in his obvious display of devotion, drew strength from it, though I did not share this information with him verbally. I forgave him by inches, and slowly became confident in his promises.

Wednesday evening was a stressful affair. Carlisle came home after I'd finished dinner, dressed casually rather than professionally, carrying a thick, legal-sized envelope that bulged oddly at one end.

"Bella?" he called. I walked as far as the nearest couch and could go no farther. My eyes were entirely focused on the yellow package. Carlisle obligingly strode forward to meet me, using a human pace. My discomfort must have been evident.

Edward flitted to my side from his piano, arms extended, and the others gathered silently in the living room, watching me with apprehension.

I looked into Carlisle's face before turning my attention back to the envelope, not sure which emotion to settle on. Grateful? I was certainly that, both for Carlisle's assistance and the family's willingness to have me here. But there was also disgust that we'd had to resort to making a deal with McCoig—where was the justice in that? And there was fear. This particular response confused me, for I had no idea what Carlisle had in his hand that I should be afraid of. After all, it contained my freedom papers, so to speak. I'd never be forced to return to that place again.

I realized Carlisle was holding the envelope out to me, and that I was regarding it as I would a rattlesnake. My posture was different than it had been a moment ago; instead of the relaxed pose I'd been in, my shoulders were suddenly tense, my arms slightly raised in front of me, palms forward as if to push away. My spine curled in an inexplicably familiar way. I balanced on the balls of my feet, and my legs seemed to be on the verge of springing backward.

My flight reflex.

"Bella?" Edward said quietly, reaching for my right hand.

I felt shivers building in my fingertips. It would not do to lose control here. Abruptly, I inclined my head to Edward.

"You take it," I whispered. And with that I skittered a few steps to the left, looked into Carlisle's eyes painfully for a moment as I mouthed silent thanks, and scurried up the stairs to my room.

I paced the gold carpet for a few minutes, trying to understand my reaction. It made absolutely no sense to me. Nothing in that envelope would hurt me. It was just paper and ink. _He_ wasn't hiding inside it, waiting to pounce. In fact, I should be overjoyed right now, thrilled in the knowledge that I did not have to worry about looking over my shoulder or searching for escape routes, that I was legally allowed to go anywhere I saw fit.

That last part was a lie, though. Charlie's house and the whole of Forks were forbidden to me, at least for now. I still couldn't look after my father like I wanted to, couldn't tell him how much I cared. I'd never really talked about my feelings with him much in the past, and now I regretted not being just a little more vocal.

And was I really even ready to be around him? Here I was, unable to keep my cool when faced with _paperwork_. Heaven help me if Charlie should start asking me about my time in St. Vincent's, what I'd done there, why I hadn't spoken to him all that time, what Dr. McCoig was like…

I shuddered; I may not be inside that hell anymore, but that didn't make me free of it.

Just then, Edward opened the door and walked in tentatively, a worried look on his face. Jasper stood behind him at the doorway, his features blank, neutral. I stopped pacing and eyed them both. Jasper's hands were behind his back.

"Bella?" Edward said carefully. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Jasper rolled his eyes and pushed past Edward into the room. "Bella, have a seat."

Edward was irritated as he looked up at his brother's back, but I sat down in the center of the sofa obediently. How would I ever heal if I didn't try? I looked up at Jasper and Edward, resolved to get through this somehow.

Edward's gaze flickered back to me, concerned. I nodded once, and he took his place at my side.

Jasper stood near the bed, directly across from me, and tried to gauge my mood. My eyes lingered on his arms, still behind his back. I could guess what he held there.

"What did it say?" I asked them both.

It was Edward who spoke first. "Acute depression and complicated grief disorder, same as your initial diagnosis. You were treated with antidepressants and bi-weekly therapy sessions, including group therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy. You've been deemed functional and able to make your own medical decisions."

"Antidepressants," I snorted, looking at my knees for several seconds. My arms folded in irritation. "What else?"

"There's a recommendation that you continue therapy," Edward said, looking at me strangely, "and prescriptions for sertraline and diazepam. One is an anti-depressant; the other is a mild tranquilizer."

"Is that all it said?" I didn't know why I was suddenly so angry. Was Jasper…?

"Did you expect more?" Jasper asked me curiously.

"Give me the damn thing," I demanded. Why was I suddenly contemplating violence against a few sheets of paper? "And stop making me feel pissed off, Jasper."

"I'm not," Jasper said, confused, as he brought the envelope from behind his back and extracted a manila folder from it. He walked forward slowly to pass it to me, glancing at Edward as he did so. I knew they were having one of their annoyingly silent conversations, but I was too preoccupied to care.

I flipped through the sterile sheets of paper. It was just as Edward had said: one sheet listed a diagnosis and the treatments I'd supposedly received, another was a one-year prescription attached to a recommendation for therapy, although there was not a referral to any specific doctor. One paper held my discharge information. The last sheet was more official-looking, basically indicating I was mentally competent to live on my own without supervision. It was signed by Dr. Peter McCoig in blue ink.

And that was it.

"That…son of a…" I growled. I began to shake with rage—where was that coming from?—and Edward reached over to pluck the file from my hands before I could crumple it. Or shred it with my bare hands, which I found myself contemplating.

"Bella," Jasper said slowly, "tell me why you're upset."

I shut my eyes tightly against the red tinge everything seemed to be bathed in, and my fists balled up. I could feel something building inside.

"Bella?" Edward sounded slightly afraid.

"_How dare he!_" I exploded, sounding more like a snarling animal than I ever had in my life. "That lying, disgusting psychopath! He tortured me for a month, and all I get is _this_! Where is it?"

"Jasper," Edward said in a low voice, "perhaps you should—"

"No, let her do this," Jasper replied rapidly. "Bella, what are you looking for?"

I got up suddenly and started pacing again, trying to channel my sudden energy into movement. "How…could…he…just…"

"Bella!" Jasper said loudly, capturing my attention. I froze and looked in his general direction, not wanting to meet his eyes yet. "Tell me what you want to be in that file."

I shook violently, keeping silent. Edward gestured toward me from his seat, as though wanting to hold me again. I looked into his eyes, pained and mystified, so loving and concerned, and my anger abated just enough for the words to come out of their own accord.

"An apology."

I blinked after I'd said it, surprise numbing the anger. Was that what I'd wanted from this sub-human?

"I understand," Jasper said gently, and it seemed as if he truly did. "It's natural to want such a thing when you've been so severely wronged. But did you really expect to get one?"

I stood very still and contemplated this for a minute.

"I suppose not," I said uncertainly. Why would a bastard like that ever express remorse? It wasn't as though he'd agreed to this farce because he felt guilty for my suffering.

Edward took advantage of my sudden calm, for lack of a better word, and came to my side to guide me gently back to his couch. I leaned into him automatically, unaware of his expression.

"I guess it's a silly thing to expect," I said after another minute. "He's simply trying to avoid trouble for himself. He didn't do this out of pity."

Edward pressed his lips to their usual spot in my hair just above my ear. I closed my eyes briefly, letting myself enjoy his tenderness and be relaxed by it. "Sorry," I whispered. "I've been foolish."

"Not at all," Jasper replied sincerely. I looked at him and wondered how he could so completely understand my need for an apology, my infuriated pain and grief. It had to be more than his empathic ability. Had someone hurt him, too?

He smiled slightly, probably sensing my curiosity, and looked at Edward. "I think we should show her what else was in the envelope."

Instantly my eyes zeroed in on the yellow package, which still had that odd bulky shape at the bottom. What _was_ that? For the briefest moment, I thought it might be Dr. McCoig's stunner. Would he have sent…?

No, I reasoned with myself, he wouldn't have. That would have been handing over evidence. And even if he had, I doubted very much that Edward or Jasper would have wanted me to see the vile thing.

Edward watched the emotions twist and change on my face, and I struggled to compose myself. He and Jasper wanted to help me, and I should let them. I looked into his cautious eyes and nodded, then took his free hand and gave a little squeeze.

"All right," he said slowly before turning back to Jasper. "Let her see."

Jasper picked up the envelope and walked toward me with it, moving faster this time. Perhaps he was growing comfortable enough with me to be more like himself. I didn't focus on this speculation, however; all my thoughts were suddenly directed at the package in his hand.

"It's hardly an apology, but it might make you smile, at least," Jasper said.

Curious, but no longer afraid, I took it carefully and felt it. It seemed like the contents were lighter than I'd expected, stiff but not hard. I turned the open envelope upside down to let whatever it was spill out onto the empty seat next to me.

Three stacks of crisp, bound currency landed on the cushion with a slight bounce.

Fifties.

The tapes around them each said $5,000.

"Cash?" I said, bewildered. "What the…?"

Edward sniffed as though offended. "McCoig was not entirely convinced that Carlisle wouldn't expose him." He paused. "Or kill him."

The last part surprised me at first; the very idea that Carlisle would ever think of killing anyone was absurd. But he was a vampire, after all, and it shouldn't be too hard for him to be intimidating when he wanted to.

"Wait," I said, peering up at Edward as a new thought occurred to me. "You mean this is hush money?"

He looked revolted, but Jasper laughed quietly.

"Yes," Jasper answered first. "Pathetic, isn't it?" Fifteen grand was almost pocket change to a Cullen.

I looked back down at it. It was more money than I'd ever seen at one time. Even back when I cashiered at Newton's, I had never seen this much money. I was caught up in the simultaneous desires to burn it all or deposit it into my checking account for college or Charlie's retirement.

"It's more than what they usually issue to a departing patient," Edward said quietly. "And of course it could never make up for what happened to you. But it would be more than enough to get you started somewhere, if you wanted."

I snapped back to Edward's face, suddenly afraid. Everything else, the entire day, was completely forgotten but for this single fear. He'd promised I could remain as long as I needed to, but I suddenly realized it was no different than when he'd told me, long ago, that he'd stay with me as long as it was best for me.

Jasper caught my reaction immediately. "Why are you frightened, Bella?"

I glanced at him quickly before turning my attention back to Edward. "What do you mean? Do you want me to leave when I'm better?" My voice shook. After everything he'd said and done, all the times he'd held me and said he loved me, could he really want me to go?

Alarmed by my trepidation (he must have been listening to Jasper's assessment), Edward suddenly kneeled on the floor in front of me, took my face in both his hands, and stared into my eyes. He seemed every bit as scared as I was, but also a little incredulous.

"What are you thinking? I told you I want you, Bella. I'll always want you."

Tears I hadn't even noticed forming began to gush. "Then why would you say that, about me getting started somewhere else?" My chest tightened. The room seemed to be spinning, just a little, and I tried to anchor myself by grasping Edward's wrists.

"Breathe slowly, Bella. Calm down," Edward said, trying to soothe but not quite managing to speak slowly enough.

I hadn't noticed my small, quick gasps. The room seemed dimmer.

"Panic attack," Jasper said quickly. "Would you like me to…?"

"Yes," Edward buzzed back, still looking at me. "Bella? Please, love, relax. You don't have to go anywhere."

Serenity filled me quite suddenly, and I pulled myself forward onto my knees to secure my arms around Edward's chest. I inhaled deeply, taking in his sweetness, and heaved a sigh of relief into his shoulder. "You scared me, Edward. Don't ever do that again."

I felt his head shake above mine. "You ridiculous girl, I only wanted you to know you're free to make your own choices. You've been in captivity so long; I thought you might want a chance to start fresh someplace else."

Jasper must have still been influencing me, because I stayed completely calm as I asked, "And where would you be?"

Edward stroked my hair slowly, but his voice was intense as he answered. "Anywhere you want me to be."

Behind Edward, Jasper exhaled in what I could only identify as an exasperated sigh. I looked up curiously, and Edward turned his head in surprise.

"What?" I asked, perplexed. I could never be certain whether Jasper was experiencing others' emotions, the response he was forcing on someone, or feelings of his own. However, as neither Edward nor I seemed so annoyed at the moment, I could only assume this particular sentiment was all his.

"Alice is right," Jasper said, moving around to my right side where we could both see him. "This _has_ all gotten beyond ridiculous."

"Jasper…" Edward said, a warning in his voice.

"Relax, Edward," Jasper ordered. "This will only take a minute."

Edward remained silent, staring at Jasper as though afraid he might say the wrong thing.

Jasper ignored this and looked down at me. "Bella, are you ever going to want to be without Edward?"

I tilted my head to one side. "Are you crazy? Where is this coming from?"

Jasper smirked at my use of the word crazy. "Just look at Edward and answer the question honestly, please."

I did as he asked, placing my hands on Edward's face. His dark eyes were no longer cautionary, but searching mine again. I didn't even have to think about my answer. "I will never want anything but you."

The sun was a dim bulb compared to the light shining from Edward's face in that moment.

"Edward," Jasper said. "Are you ever going to want to be without Bella?"

"Never," Edward whispered fervently, cupping my cheeks again. And it was glorious to me.

So quietly I almost couldn't hear it, Jasper murmured reverently, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go, and whither thou lodgest, I will lodge."

I only faintly noticed the click of the door closing as Edward's tender kiss melted the world away.

* * *

**A/N: **Complicated grief disorder (also known as Prolonged Grief Disorder) is real. It occurs when someone experiences the loss of someone close to them (a spouse, a child, a parent) and is unable to get out of their bereavement mode; it does bear resemblance to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is my opinion that in New Moon, Bella was experiencing complicated grief. One symptom (the one that led me to my conclusion) is pain. For an overview of the symptoms of this disorder, please visit: www dot grief-healing-support dot com/complicated-grief dot html

Bella in my story went into the hospital with complicated grief, but she came out with PTSD. She was in that place for over a month, and we can see that it was traumatic for her. When the body is in such a heightened state for a month or longer, it begins to undergo physical changes. One of those is _enhanced hearing, _which we see Bella exhibiting a little bit of early in the chapter. That's not magic--it is a response to (or rather, a result of) constant stress hormones.

That being said, this story takes place in a world of magic. Normal doctors aren't empaths, normal patients aren't the "widows" of vampires, and PTSD takes a very long time to properly treat. For an excellent Twilight story that deals with PTSD far more realistically, please read "Black and White" by Vixen1836.

Thank you for reading!


	7. Reunions

Chapter 7 Reunions

_Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained._

~C.S. Lewis

Friday evening was upon me before I knew it. Carlisle was working until 8:00, but everyone else was home. Alice, Jasper, and Edward were statues perched around the living room, their eyes following me as I paced like an agitated cat. I could almost imagine myself that way, with a long, twitching tail.

"Just give it another half hour, Bella," Alice said with a sigh. "And stop worrying so much. Everything will be just fine."

I broke stride and turned to stare at her. "Are you sure? Have you seen anything new?"

Carlisle had come home later than expected the previous night, telling me he'd seen Charlie at the hospital working a traffic accident. My father wasn't happy to see Carlisle, but apparently he'd seemed okay. Well enough to focus on doing what was needed of him, at least, which had been a relief for me after a long day of my building anxiety. I'd tried not to upset myself today, but even with Jasper's breathing exercises, it had been difficult.

Alice frowned at me. "Jasper will be helping you, and Charlie will be taking his cues from your temperament, so there's really no reason for you to wear out the carpet. Sit down and relax already."

I blew out a puff of air and traipsed over to Edward on the loveseat, sinking into his lap. I pressed my face to his throat and inhaled, letting the sweetness settle in my lungs. "Distract me," I mumbled.

Edward's icy fingertips brushed back my hair and tapped along my neck as though composing a new melody, and my heart stuttered and sped in response. Jasper cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Perhaps something fit for an audience, then?" Edward said, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I smirked. "Should we play chess? Would that be innocent enough for Jasper's virgin eyes?"

Alice laughed, and Jasper narrowed his aforementioned eyes slightly before chuckling. There was a reason I'd been going to bed with the stereo on every night, and it had nothing to do with _my_ nocturnal activities.

"What time did you boys want to leave tonight?" Alice chimed, trying to make conversation for my benefit.

Jasper had decided it was best for him to hunt at least once a week for the duration of my stay, but Edward had not hunted since before bringing me home, nearly a full two weeks. I worried that my proximity was making him uncomfortable, but he had assured me that he was in perfect control of his thirst. All the same, I hated to see the inky blackness in his eyes and think of the pain he must be feeling, so I encouraged him to go with his father and brother though I'd rather have him stay.

"After nine, I think," Edward answered. "Once I'm sure Bella will be alright."

Alice rolled her eyes. "She'll be fine, Edward. You aren't going far, and you won't be away long." Her eyes became opaque for a moment. "See? If you keep to the west, you'll find plenty of elk. You should be back before dawn."

"When will Rosalie and Emmett be arriving?" Esme said from the middle of the staircase. I had not heard her descend, but that was not unusual for a family of vampires, and I was growing accustomed to it.

Alice's face went blank again, and I felt Edward grow very still. "Midday," Alice answered. "They're going to stop and hunt before they get too close."

I, too, became motionless. I was dreading Rosalie's glares and wondered if she'd have anything nasty to say to me tomorrow. Edward's hand tightened on my shoulder, and he pressed his mouth close to my ear. "Everything will be all right. She won't bother you."

"Yeah," I breathed back with a small smile, trying not to let Esme see how worried I really was. "I'm sure it will be fine." I looked down at my hands and bit my lip, wondering if I was fooling anyone.

Esme came to sit next to us on the loveseat and tenderly placed a hand on mine. "Thank you, Bella, for agreeing to this," she said softly. "I know it must be difficult for you right now, with everything else you're dealing with, to add one more stressor to the pile." Esme suddenly became stern. "I've already spoken to Rosalie. She _will_ behave herself." I made a mental note never to be impolite to a guest in her house, and she continued in a kind voice. "This means a great deal to me, my dear, having all my family together. I love you all so much." She squeezed my hand gently and beamed warmly at me. I smiled back; she counted me as one of her family now, and my heart swelled to hear it.

"Thank you, Esme," I whispered. "I love you, too."

I felt Edward exhale contentedly. On the couch across from us, Alice and Jasper held hands and grinned at me.

Alice sat up suddenly, looking at nothing I could identify. "Call him now, Bella."

We all stood up, and everyone surrounded me. Edward removed the designated phone from his shirt pocket and handed it to me silently. My heart raced in my chest, my breathing was suddenly uneven, and my fingers trembled as I dialed my father's number.

"Jasper?" I murmured. I felt a strong, cold hand on my shoulder, and I was instantly at peace. I pressed Send.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

"Hello?"

I hesitated. It felt good to hear his voice again, but I couldn't show it. "Hi, Charlie."

The phone was silent for three seconds. "Bella? Is it really you?"

I looked at the floor. "Yeah. How are you?" I tried to sound like I didn't care.

"Worried out of my mind! Are you okay?" He was frantic.

"I'm fine. Calm down." I hoped he wasn't working himself up to a stroke.

"Why didn't you call me to pick you up? The hospital staff said they released you and that you hadn't told them where you planned to go. Where are you? I'll come get you right now." He was desperate to see me, to make sure I was safe.

I took a deep but quiet breath. Instead of mere calm, I felt slightly numb. "I'm not going home, Charlie." My voice was flat, just like I needed it to be.

"But, Bells…" Charlie sounded confused and hurt. "You're better now. You can come back to Forks, finish school."

"No. I need a fresh start." He had wanted that for me in the first place; he'd practically demanded it. I could still remember him angrily pounding his fist on the table, threatening to make me leave…_I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks._ "I'll have a better chance this way."

"I see," he said quietly, and I knew I'd pressed the right button. "Where will you live? Do you need any money?" He must be thinking of his retirement fund.

"No thanks, Dad. The hospital issued me a little money to get started, and I've already got a job and a place to stay. I know how to take care of myself." I'd had to fend for myself for years, and he knew that. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Can I at least come see you?" Pleading.

I shut my eyes. "No. I'm not ready to see you right now."

Charlie was quiet on the other end.

"Dad?"

He sniffed. "Still here, Bella."

"Call Renee and tell her I'm safe, okay?"

"Sure, honey." He sniffed again.

I couldn't resist. "And for heaven's sake, eat some vegetables once in a while, and ease up on the fried food. They sell the salad in prepackaged bags now, you know."

Charlie chuckled without any real humor. "I can do that. Is there a number where I can reach you?"

"No, sorry. I had to borrow this phone." I couldn't focus on getting well or keep up my illusion if he was calling me every day.

Edward gave me an apologetic look, and I knew it was time to end the conversation.

"Love you, Dad. I'll call you next week."

"Really?" He sounded so hopeful.

"Sure, Charlie. Bye."

"Love you, Bella. Bye."

I pressed End.

Jasper lifted his hand slowly, and the numbness died away.

I turned my whole body to Edward and crushed myself against him, tears forming suddenly with sobs not far behind. Edward scooped me up carefully and carried me up the stairs at inhuman speed. I clutched him like a lifeline.

Once in bed, I remained nestled in his arms, wishing I could walk back down the stairs, call Charlie, and take it all back. I had abandoned my own father, made him think I wanted nothing to do with him. Edward didn't speak or try to kiss me. He only held me close and waited, offering his silent support.

About an hour after sunset I finally stopped crying and wiped my face on my sleeve. I pressed my lips to his chest.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I'm being stupid, I know. I just feel like a miserable excuse for a daughter."

"Bella," Edward disagreed with me gently, "you're anything but stupid, and you're a wonderful, loving daughter. None of this is your fault." He stroked my hair carefully and wiped a few errant tears away. "It won't be forever. Before long you'll be able to see him again."

"But it won't be the same," I said sadly. "He'll always think I don't love him the same way I did before. I've hurt him, Edward."

Edward pulled my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Bella, you did not do this to him. Stop blaming yourself, please. It's been a month and a half since he's spoken to you. Do you have any idea how relieved he must be just to hear your voice again? And you'll call him again next week. He'll be happier speaking to you for a few minutes at a time than he has been the whole time you've been away. Trust me, love, this is the right thing to do."

I closed my eyes. "I know." I pulled my face closer. "I love you, Edward. Thank you for seeing me through this."

I felt a cold kiss on my nose. "And I love you, Bella. More than you'll ever know."

I smiled slightly at that. Would he ever know how much a part of me he really was?

I opened my eyes and glanced up at the window, then down at my watch.

8:36 P.M.

Friday

March 26

"You have to go," I whispered sadly.

Edward's face was troubled. "I can stay with you tonight. I don't have to hunt yet."

The onyx color of his irises and violet circles under his eyes said otherwise, and I knew his thirst must be far more intense than he let on. "Go on," I said. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to shower and hit the sack. I need some sleep anyway. It's been a long day."

Edward looked at me inquiringly, an expression I already knew. I smiled encouragingly to grant permission, and he touched his lips carefully to mine. I stroked his face just once, slowly, and reminded myself to breathe.

After a few seconds he pulled back, and I smiled again. "See you in the morning," I said.

"I'll send Alice in to sit with you tonight," he said, getting up.

"Sure," I said, propping myself up on my right elbow to watch him move, to marvel at his easy grace. "Maybe I'll crack her up when I start yammering in my sleep tonight."

Edward stiffened for half a second at the door. "Good night, love. Pleasant dreams."

"Happy hunting," I called back, and he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving me alone with a heart full of private misery.

* * *

I was running through the trees again, giant cedars like the ones in front of the Cullen house. I laughed at first, expecting him to chase after me, but there was no corresponding laughter in return. I swiveled my head in every direction, seeking a glimpse of his white skin or bronze hair, and sniffed at the air hopefully, meaning to pick up his scent. But there was no sign of him, and the trees pressed closer together. Panicking, I broke into a gallop, searching, searching, my eyes turning every which way. There were no sounds, no birds or insects or squirrels making their small, comforting noises. I searched the treetops to no avail, and the canopy blotted out the sunlight. Confused, I turned back the way I'd come, but it was identical to everything else. And I didn't know what I was looking for anymore, only that I should keep looking and try not to feel so alone, that I should ignore the hollow being gouged out from my chest, the slicing, the throbbing stream of hot blood spurting across the piles of pine needles, but it didn't matter, because no one would ever find me here, or even bother to try, and the trees and sky and earth all spun and faded into white…

I screamed into the inky blackness, fearing I'd gone completely blind. Saltwater flew from my eyes, and I could only wail incoherently and clutch at my chest.

Lamplight exposed the space, and a white blur suddenly materialized into a small female shape sitting beside me. "Bella?" her wind chime voice called out clearly. "Bella, it's Alice. Can you hear me?"

Her voice was a much needed shock to my system, and I found myself completely mute. I sat twisted in shining gold bedding, my face sticky with sweat and hair. I looked around wildly until I found Edward's pillow. Pulling it to me like a child's comfort object, I breathed in his lingering fragrance to soothe the pain. I heaved a sigh of relief as I remembered: Edward had only gone hunting and would be back by morning. A faint ache lingered in my chest, uncomfortable but not unbearable.

I checked my watch.

4:34 A.M.

Saturday

March 27

"How do you feel?" Alice asked, looking at me curiously. Over her shoulder I saw Esme standing in the doorway, watching me carefully for any further signs of panic. I heard thunder in the distance.

"Better, thanks. Sorry about that." I ducked my head. "I hope I didn't say anything too awful."

Alice hummed something unintelligible over her shoulder, too fast for me to catch anything but her gentle tone, and Esme smiled. "I'll be in my room, girls. Bella, please call me if you need anything at all." She stole quietly back toward the staircase.

"Actually, you mostly just called for Edward," Alice replied after her mother had gone, "or at least you did at first. Then you seemed…lost, and it didn't make sense anymore. Was this a new dream?" She looked at me quizzically, and I wondered how much I should tell her.

"Can you block this from Edward?" I asked seriously.

Alice seemed surprised. "Yes, I can, if I find more things to think about, but why would I do that? He expected you to have a nightmare. If I block it, he'll assume it was worse than he thought. And even if I convince him you didn't have one at all, he'll only be even more confused."

Hmm. Knowing Edward, if he thought I had no nightmares in his absence, he'd erroneously assume that his presence caused all my other nightmares. Ridiculous, but that was Edward.

"Look," I said, deciding to trust Alice, "it's fine if he knows I had a nightmare, I just don't want him to know it was _this_ nightmare. He feels guilty enough as it is. I had to plead with him all day to take this hunting trip. If he thinks leaving me alone for a few hours is going to hurt me further, he'll just go longer and longer between feeding, and I can't stand to have him in pain. It probably wouldn't do much for his self control, either."

"I don't know, Bella." She sounded worried now. "It's important for us to know what's going on in that human brain of yours so we can help you."

I tried to plot a strategy, not the easiest thing to do so close to 4 A.M. "What if I speak to Jasper alone? Not that I'm up for that either."

Alice shook her head slightly. "No dice. He can't just block the entire point of your session from Edward." As usual, her logic was unassailable.

I hung my head in my hands. "Crap, Alice. I don't want to go ten rounds with Edward and Jasper over this. It's completely unnecessary, and I just don't have the energy to deal with either of them."

She considered me a moment. "I do have an alternative."

I stared at her, puzzled. "What might that be?"

"Edward wanted me to take care of you, right? So you can just talk about your dream with me. I won't analyze you, or ask you too many questions, or freak out and get overprotective and angst-ridden. I'll just listen, and maybe tell you what I think. I'm not your therapist, and I'm not your self-flagellating life partner. I'm your friend, Bella. Sometimes that's all you need."

I tilted my head and pondered this. I'd never had that kind of friend growing up except for my mom, and I was usually the one guiding _her_ through various crises and heartaches. If there was anyone I could trust to be a truly supportive friend, it was Alice. And maybe she wouldn't be able to keep the conversation from Edward, but she'd probably help me feel better about the whole thing, and that was suddenly what I wanted most.

So I told her about the dream, when it all began, the abandonment, how the stabbing pain I'd formerly felt in waking moments had seeped into the dream until it had become a near-permanent fixture. I told her about the blood flow, how I both hated it and allowed it in the hopes that it would draw Edward back to me. I told her about the paradox of the claustrophobia within the trees and the endless expanse of white oblivion. I told her how excruciating it was to be separated from him all those months, and how even now, knowing that he would come home to me, the hole still prickled. And I told her how worried I was about Edward's reaction to this knowledge, that my pain causing him pain only caused me even more pain, a double helix of mutual agony that didn't help either of us.

Alice held my hand and stayed quiet for the duration. When I had finished, she seemed lost in thought.

"Bella," Alice said finally, "you know he's coming back. He'll be here in an hour or so. And, hunting trips notwithstanding, he'll never be strong enough to leave you again."

I sighed, ashamed of myself. "Yeah, I know I'm being silly. It just hurts so much, being away from him."

"I know exactly what you mean," she replied in a strange voice. Curiosity flickered within me.

I sat up and peered at her. "You and Jasper," I began, "were the two of you ever…?" I didn't know how to finish the question, but Alice seemed to understand.

"I've told you before, haven't I, that Jasper's face was the first thing I saw when I woke up to this life?" I nodded, and she continued. "I don't know how similar it was to your experience or Edward's, but the moment I had my vision of Jasper, my body filled with warmth and joy. Not a common thing for a vampire to feel, warmth. It flows over me whenever I'm in his presence. When we make love, we're completely overwhelmed by it…

"But before I found him, I didn't have all the assurances that I do now. My visions are imperfect, and it took almost thirty years to find him. Every day was a slow torture, and only my visions kept the pain in check, gave me hope."

She looked at me sympathetically. "I suppose the pain is much the same for you, though perhaps on a deeper level. Jasper didn't leave me like Edward left you; he didn't hurt me the same way.

"I've heard all your sessions with Jasper, and I talked to Edward and my parents about what you were like when he first brought you home. I can't be sure, of course, but I wonder if the pain might be worse for you than Edward thinks. Vampire senses are magnified hundreds, maybe thousands of times greater than that of a human, so our capacity for appreciating and enduring pain is greater. But we're not mortal, and there are still some things we can't feel, sensations we simply don't experience. You were talking about bleeding earlier. That's something I have no memory of, and I doubt Edward remembers it clearly either. We know what it is, obviously, but the concept of our own essence draining away is foreign to us. And you felt it every night! How do you _survive_ that?"

I shook my head. "No questions about it, remember? I don't think I could answer that one, anyway."

Alice nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse for you." She threw an arm around my waist, and I threw one over her shoulder, and I was just so grateful that she was there.

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before I thought of the time. "When are the guys getting home?"

Alice cocked her head to the side. "In about half an hour. Do you want to take a nap before they get here?"

"No thanks. It won't do me any good to try to sleep now anyway. What is it, 5:30 in the morning?" I checked my watch to confirm. "I should eat some breakfast and have a shower before they show up." I inched to the side of the bed and was about to drop my feet when Alice stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Bella?" she spoke hesitantly, sparking my curiosity. "There's something else I need to say."

"What is it, Alice?"

"Rosalie and Emmett will be here later," her voice sounded very small. "And I wanted to thank you for that. I know how she's been with you in the past, and Jasper can tell you're worried about more of the same from her. He was actually opposed to the idea of them coming back."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why? I thought he'd love to have his brother and sister back."

"He would. But he's concerned that this might affect your recovery and hinder your progress. Jasper thinks it's more important for you to get well than for you to placate Rosalie, but you were so decided that I told him not to bother arguing the point."

I was completely floored. Never in a million years would I have expected my mental health to be a higher priority on _Jasper's_ list than his own siblings.

Alice seemed to guess what I was thinking. "Bella, when you were being hunted last year, Jasper told you that our only fear was losing you. Do you remember?"

It had been a whole year since that awful Spring Break, and I'd suppressed a great many memories about that time, but I did remember that much. "Yeah," I whispered.

"That is even truer today than it was then. I love you, Bella, every ounce as much as I love Edward. Carlisle and Esme do, too. Jasper cares about you, and he wants you to be whole again. And not just for Edward, but for you. It's pained us all to see you so broken. Rosalie's petty annoyances are nothing to that."

I was every bit as overwhelmed as I had been when Esme called me part of her family. It was just too much for me. I returned to Alice's arms and tried not to cry. She patted my back. "My sister," she murmured.

I pulled back and met her eyes, the words pouring from me like water. "I love you, Alice. Please, don't let Rosalie know Jasper didn't want her to come home. I asked that she come back so she wouldn't hate me for keeping her away from her own family. If she finds out about this, it'll just make things worse. Promise me, Alice."

She rolled her eyes. "We're way ahead of you, Bella. Now let's hurry up and get you fed and presentable before Jazz and Edward get back. You look like a panda with those eyes. Esme!" she called suddenly. "Get the Count Chockula and a glass of orange juice!"

* * *

"Bella!" Edward's voice betrayed just a hint of panic as he flashed up the stairs and into our room, stopping just inside the door. His hair was sopping wet and his clothes were entirely drenched, as though he had swum across the river rather than leaped over it, the clinging fabric emphasizing every line of his torso. No one had a right to look so beautiful. "Are you alright?"

Alice, seated on my left on the couch, rolled her eyes slightly. Whatever explanation she'd been thinking at Edward had not been enough to put him entirely at ease.

I, on the other hand, felt completely untroubled the moment I glimpsed Edward's face. I felt myself light up with a smile, and I reached for him without a conscious thought. No trace of the hole remained as he flitted to the sofa and kneeled in front of me, taking my hands into his. I didn't throw myself into his arms; I didn't need to. Reunion was a flavor on my tongue, ambrosial, and I wanted nothing more than to savor it. I sat silently and memorized the exact luminance of his topaz eyes, parted my lips carefully, and tasted the air, the sweet electricity.

I had not noticed Alice's departure, or even the passage of time, until I heard her tiny _ahem_ in the doorway. Edward and I both looked up to see her shaking her head, amused, with Jasper standing behind her, an air of peace around him.

"That's enough, you two. Emmett and Rosalie will be here soon, and Bella should eat again before they get here. Haven't you heard your own stomach growling for the past hour?"

I looked around myself and realized the room was entirely lit by the rain-filtered daylight passing through the window wall. Had I really lost the whole morning? I checked my watch and sure enough, it was just past 11:30 A.M. Had Edward and I talked at all? I didn't remember falling into the haze; I didn't remember blinking, feeling numb, or doing anything but enjoying his presence. Jasper had seemed at ease about us just now, not worried…

"Bella, is something wrong?" Edward asked, sensing my confusion. Or maybe he heard Jasper's assessment of my confusion.

"I'm fine," I said, smiling widely and focusing only on how happy I'd been for the last several hours. "I guess I lost track of time. You're very good, Edward." I winked at him and stood up. "I'd better get some food in me. Are you coming?"

His expression was content as he got to his feet, but I thought I saw his eyes tighten. "I just need to shower and change clothes, and I'll be right down."

I stretched up to give him a quick peck on the cheek before I headed for the stairs. I was passively aware of the odd looks the three vampires gave each other and the way Jasper's jaw moved rapidly, though I heard nothing distinct.

After a quick lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (I didn't want anything that had to be heated, lest the accentuated smell permeate the house even further and irritate Rosalie or Emmett), I went to join Esme and Carlisle in the living room and tried not to be nervous. This decision had been made, and I had no wish to go back on it, but still, Rosalie was the only Cullen who actually frightened me. And that was _after_ taking into account that Jasper had taken a snap at me once before and Edward had come within an inch of massacring our entire biology class the first time he smelled me. I fidgeted a little in my seat.

Jasper and the others zipped down the stairs just then, and it was suddenly a completely natural thing to sit and crack jokes about how elk blood compared to bean curd while we waited. I wondered what they'd been talking about upstairs for so long, but I didn't ask, figuring Alice must have been filling them in on what she and I had talked about. Edward sat on the floor in front of me, seeming to enjoy the feeling of my fingers playing with his hair and massaging his scalp. Feeling impulsive and playful, I leaned down as if to whisper something (not that everyone in the house wouldn't hear me anyway) and, quite deliberately, exhaled softly into his ear.

Edward froze, and the air around us suddenly pulsed with electricity. Jasper and Alice were immediately rocking with laughter. I giggled happily and buried my face in Edward's hair. Carlisle and Esme exchanged a glance and the subtlest of smirks.

"Bella…" Edward breathed, half reprimanding me, half expressing a clear desire to turn around and kiss me.

"Yes dear?" I said with superficial innocence. I only called him "dear" when teasing him.

"That wasn't very—oh." He suddenly straightened up and looked toward the rear of the house. I stiffened, understanding. His brother and sister were within range of his extra hearing.

"Knock it off, Jasper," Edward muttered as a fresh wave of calm spread across the room.

"It's not you I'm doing this for," Jasper replied icily, his tone laced with hidden meaning, "as you very well know." The calm lifted just a little.

"Boys," Esme spoke firmly, "please."

_Don't ruin this for her_, I thought. _Esme deserves this._ I tugged Edward by his hair to settle back against my legs and pressed my face close to his ear again. "I love you," I murmured as quietly as I could, attempting to mimic the way his family communicated. Saying the words soothed me.

He reached up with one hand to brush my cheek and whispered, "You are everything." The words burned with more fervor than I'd expected.

Two pale blurs flashed past the south wall of windows. I had no more warning than that before Rosalie and Emmet were suddenly standing before us, dressed in hiking attire and carrying sturdy-looking backpacks, smiling at Esme and Carlisle.

All of a sudden everyone was standing up, exchanging hugs. I stood, too, as quickly as I could, hanging back just a little so the family could enjoy their greetings without interference. Well, mostly without interference—Carlisle had to break up an impromptu wrestling match. Edward seemed genuinely happy to see his brother and sister, and I was pleased to see him beaming. Rosalie and Emmett spoke in their rapid bell and honey murmurs at first, but the others all spoke at human pace and volume for my benefit. It didn't take long for the newcomers to catch on and do the same.

Emmett rounded on me, his eyes sweeping over me as a wicked grin stretched across his face. "Well look what the cat dragged in. You're even scrawnier than I remember."

"Emmett, are you _sure_ steroids don't work on vampires?" I teased back. "You're practically blotting out the sun."

He reached over at human speed as if to muss my hair, and I lightly sidestepped out of reach. "Missed me," I mocked.

His head twitched infinitesimally at an angle, his eyes amused and slightly surprised. "Huh. You didn't fall."

"Observant, aren't you?" Rosalie quipped. She looked at me then, and I looked at her. She smiled shyly, and I did the same.

"Hi, Rosalie," I said casually. "How was your trip?"

"It was lovely. We passed through the Black Hills in South Dakota. The sunrise there is beautiful." She took a short breath. "I took some pictures for you. I know you haven't traveled much, and I thought you'd like to see it."

I smiled warmly, and I didn't think Jasper was helping me manage it, either. "Thank you. I'd like that very much." From the corner of my eye I saw Edward's blank gaze shift from myself to Rosalie to Jasper.

"I heard you had another honeymoon in Europe," I said, hoping to keep the conversation flowing so there would be no awkward pauses. "Tell me all about it."

Esme stood close to her oldest daughter, radiating joy from every particle of her being. And it didn't matter to me if Rosalie was faking this welcoming attitude or not, if she hated me or not, so long as the woman beside her, who looked after me better than my own mother ever had, could be happy.


	8. Pleasure and Pain

Chapter 8 Pleasure and Pain

_The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal._

~C.S. Lewis

The next several days passed fairly smoothly, all things considered.

Emmett spent a lot of time, more than I thought was strictly necessary, regaling everyone with tales of my many falls and sprains from the previous year. I responded, for the most part, with several less than ladylike jibes about him needing to visit a gym if he ever hoped to get rid of his spare tire. Esme was not pleased with some of our more colorful exchanges, especially the ones involving the placement of feet within certain body cavities, but Emmett only chuckled, flexed his biceps, and flowed into another story about my ineptitude. It put me at ease, having Emmett laugh just the same as he always had, but the constant stream of Clumsy Bella stories started to seem excessive after the twentieth one. Then I did something that actually shut him up.

While I made my lunch, Emmett was busy reminding me of a particularly nasty spill I'd taken the previous summer. I couldn't find the mixing bowl I needed until I thought to look on the top shelf of an upper cabinet. Emmett was rolling with laughter, and Edward was distracted by some thought in the next room—I had become skilled at recognizing his "listening" face—so I placed my hands on the counter top, shoulder width apart, and straightened out my arms to pull myself up. I lifted my right knee onto the counter and used it to pull the rest of my body upwards until I was kneeling on the granite top. From there I easily reached up to retrieve the desired dish, placed it beside me on the counter, and hopped back onto the floor before closing the cabinet door. My bare feet made a small slapping sound as they hit the tile. The whole thing took five or ten seconds.

As I opened up the package of brownie mix to pour into my bowl, I realized that Emmett had stopped laughing, and there were suddenly half a dozen vampires in the kitchen staring at me as if I'd grown a third arm.

"What?" I said, reaching for the egg carton.

Nobody said anything at all. They just gaped at me.

I turned back to my brownie batter. "Give me a break. It's not like you've got any stepladders around here."

Edward, looking awed but not quite as surprised as everyone else, broke the silence first. "You could have asked me to get that down for you, love. You don't need to risk your spinal column for the sake of baked goods."

I rolled my eyes and kept whisking. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." I looked away from everyone and allowed myself a tiny, smug smile.

Emmett found other things to joke about for the rest of the day.

Rosalie and I were never alone with each other, not that she and I spent much time together anyway. Edward shadowed me almost constantly, always positioning himself slightly between his sister and me, even when she showed me the pictures she'd taken for me. Whether this was in response to her thoughts or his paranoia, I did not know for certain. We had no real privacy to discuss it, since Rosalie could hear everything even with Edward's stereo turned up. In the interest of keeping my hold on a mature, pleasant attitude, I decided not resort to second grade behavior and pass Edward a note to ask. Esme and Alice were happy, Rosalie _looked_ happy, and that would have to be enough.

Jasper and Edward did not, to my surprise, push me to talk about the temporary return of my forest nightmare. Alice must have filled them in on enough of the details, I supposed, and so our sessions centered on other things. It was certainly a relief not to rehash the dreaded dream, and it turned out to be a one night stand, in any case. Edward's presence banished it, and I was back to the hospital nightmare. Even that dream had begun to lose its potency; I could _tell_ it was not real within the dream itself. Jasper was enthusiastic about my progress when he came in to check on me and started asking more questions. By Tuesday morning, I'd woken with no more than sobs, and I didn't feel a phantom burn at all. I wondered if the abandonment nightmare had lessened the severity of my St. Vincent memory dreams by making me remember what real pain was. If that was the case I was grateful to it; the prospect of having a peaceful night's sleep in the near future was wonderful.

Interestingly enough, I found although I was happy to be surrounded by a caring family, I was also somewhat frustrated by it. There was never a moment of solitude, only the illusion of it. Every kiss Edward and I shared, every accelerated breath, every pounding heartbeat, every pleasured sigh was heard by six pairs of sensitive ears.

And even worse, Edward remained steadfastly careful, his lips so light on mine that it seemed he was kissing a soap bubble. Always enough to set my heart to new and dizzying speeds, but still never quite what I wanted. I contented myself as best I could with his other caresses, which were frequent, but most of those were witnessed by the family, and I felt embarrassed every time my face flushed with want in front of someone. I was enjoying a particularly sensual neck massage from Edward on the porch steps Tuesday evening, his long fingers gently kneading away every thought but him. The icy pressure erased everything, and I moaned low and throaty into the moist air.

Edward's fingers froze in place on my neck, and Emmett laughed heartily from behind us. "Careful, Edward," he teased. "You don't want to overload the poor girl's body with hormones. She might explode."

Stupid, nosy bully of a big vampire brother.

Angry tears welled up, but I would not let anyone see me cry, not over this. Abruptly I rose and prowled up the porch steps, past the gigantic, insensitive jerk—I had to repress a hiss—and rushed fluidly through the door and up the stairs. My bare feet hardly made a sound to my ears. I heard the tumult of a boulder crashing into a tree as I fled.

I went straight for the shower, making the water as hot as I could possibly stand, adjusting the shower-head to its massage setting. I stood there for a good 45 minutes, letting the force of the water sink into my flesh. It was just enough to wash away the fury—Emmett was such a hypocrite, picking on me when he carried on with Rosalie as loud as they pleased every night—but not enough to take the sting out of the words. I sighed resignedly and turned off the water. It was best to push it away, tuck it into a corner of my mind, and think about other things.

Charlie. I was scheduled to call Charlie the next day, Wednesday, when Alice said he had no other plans. Suddenly it wasn't soon enough for me. I wanted to hear his voice again, tell him I loved him, and remind him to eat a piece of fruit once in a while. That was the most honesty I could give him, and although it wouldn't be enough for either of us, it would be better than leaving him with nothing.

I had not stopped in my room to grab any clothes on the way to the bathroom, so I wrapped myself in the largest, fluffiest towel I could find and padded quickly and quietly back to my room, hoping I wouldn't run into anyone on the way. That was all I needed, for Emmett to see me nearly naked and make more smart-ass remarks. I thrust the bedroom door open quickly and bounded right into Edward.

Reflexively, Edward caught hold of my arms to prevent me from falling, but the instant I was steady he turned around to face the bed. His arms were folded, and one hand was covering his face. The gesture was oddly human; he could have been hiding his eyes to protect my modesty or simply trying to force away a migraine.

Without another word, I stalked into the walk-in closet to my left and closed the door behind me.

With a quiet sigh, I took a minute to locate some underwear and let Edward recover his composure before speaking. I heard a blues guitar riff flare into the room, meaning he'd turned on the stereo again, and the light from under the doorway went dark. "Are you sure I can't call Charlie tonight?" I called out, rifling through my clean laundry. Nearly half the drawer space and most of the rack on the left side were taken up by clothing Esme and Alice had purchased for me. I wiggled into a dark blue tank top and matching cotton pajama pants. As usual, I avoided my reflection in the full-length standing mirror, not wanting to see the pink and white scars I knew would be there.

"I'm sorry, love, but it's too soon," Edward answered back through the closed door. "If you want this to be convincing, you should wait at least another day before you call him."

Maintaining this particular façade was draining. I sighed heavily and opened the door. "That's really irritating, you know. Having to pretend I don't—"

I cut off mid-sentence, mid-step, when familiar cold fingertips reached out from the right of the doorway to caress my shoulder and trail down my arm.

My eyelids fluttered, and my whole body pulled to his as if drawn to a magnet. I curled around his frame and buried my face in the center of his chest. His luscious scent melted away any and every other concern.

Edward seemed almost alarmed at my sudden response, but he got over it quickly. Air brushed my skin for a brief half second, and I was lying beside him in our bed, encircled in his arms, tugging desperately at his shirt collar as my lips kissed hungrily at his throat. Icy fingers traced up and down along my spine while more fingers twisted through my wet, tangled hair, and I could only think of how much I wanted to taste this beloved man who was whispering my name.

My brain caught up with me then, and I pulled my face back. I looked up at Edward sadly and sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His eyes were feverish, excited, and he seemed confused as to why I'd stopped.

"You mean besides having five or six other people hear us right now? Isn't that enough?"

His crooked grin appeared and seemed to reach all the way up to his smoldering eyes. He traced my lips softly with the tip of his index finger. "They've all gone to the Rainier field to play football. We are completely, absolutely alone."

I thought about this for the length of one blink before I crushed my lips to Edward's.

He allowed me two seconds before grasping my face and forcing me back. Before I could protest (or cry), he brushed his lips against my ear and murmured three beautiful words:

"Slow down, Bella."

I responded by lying back against my pillow, soft and pliant, and allowing him to kiss me any place he could reach. My right hand locked in his hair, and with my other I traced his collarbone, the stone muscles of his shoulder, the definition in his back. I wished he'd take off his shirt, but I didn't want to break whatever spell he was under by asking for too much. Heat radiated from my stomach to the rest of my body, making me hyperaware of every cool touch. I concentrated on my uneven breathing as Edward worked his icy lips along every inch of the skin of my throat, across my collarbone, around my shoulder. His hands traced my face and drew intricate swirls in the soft flesh of my arms, raising goose bumps with every movement. He kept time with the music, and somewhere in a distant corner of my foggy brain I recognized Stevie Ray Vaughn's signature rendition of _Little Wing_. Make-out music.

Then I forgot who Stevie Ray Vaughn was, not to mention who I was or how to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide, when Edward's ice-cold mouth began tracing the neckline of my shirt. My breath caught for a long moment, then spiked into uncontrolled panting. I could faintly hear his do the same. My heart pounded against my chest like a jackhammer, and I was just coherent enough to wish I'd worn something more low-cut. Strange groans filled my throat as he crossed my breast bone over and over, and electric pulses rushed inside me to meet every desperate touch. Containing myself became an impossible feat. I yanked on his hair and dragged his mouth to mine for the kiss I needed so badly.

Flames raced within my lips as his cold scent filled my mouth. Edward seized my flushed face in his wintry hands and glued himself to me. My overheated body strained and rose to meet him, my legs tangled with his, and there was nothing else in the universe but the musical crescendo of our struggling breaths, our strangled voices lovingly calling for each other in the dark…

And I was quite suddenly all alone. I could still feel the ghosts of pressure along all the places he'd touched my skin; my hair was still damp, and the song on the stereo ended and began again. I waited a few moments, willing my breathing to slow, before I spoke again.

"Edward? Please come back."

I lay still for another minute, my ears straining to hear something over the stereo. There was no answer. I reached over to the nightstand for the remote control and lowered the stereo volume. Still I waited. Nothing.

"Edward?" My voice sounded forlorn to my ears. "Edward, I'm sorry."

"No," a velvet voice called from the doorway after another minute, "I'm sorry."

I got up from the bed and felt my way to him in the dark. "What do you mean?"

Edward took my hands and leaned forward to rest his forehead on mine. I was surprised to feel him trembling. "For losing control," he said quietly. "I came very close to doing something unforgivable."

"Oh," I said quietly. My scent must have been too strong for him. "I should have been more careful, Edward. I wasn't even thinking about how it must hurt you—"

"No," Edward said, and I heard a smile in his voice. "I didn't mean that. I meant…something else."

"Oh," I said again, letting his suggestive tone sink in, remembering his stone body against mine. "_Oh._"

"Indeed," he replied and kissed my forehead.

I stood still, attempting to behave myself so he wouldn't feel worse. But I asked him, "Why would that have been so unforgivable?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. You know why."

I looked up at his ghostly white face, illuminated only by starlight. "Because you might break me by accident?"

He stared at me for a second before looking away. "Yes."

I knew him well enough to see there was more to it. "Are you going to tell me why else?"

He shook his head. "No. Another time." He looked almost embarrassed. I couldn't fathom what that might be about.

I sighed. "Whenever you're ready, Edward. I'm not going anywhere."

He paused a few seconds. "I'd like to ask you about something else, if you don't mind."

"Sure," I said, curious what he might have to say. "But put some different music on if you don't want me to attack you."

He laughed, and a minute later we were sitting together on the couch, hand in hand, while a collection of waltzes quietly filled the now lamp lit room.

"Bella," he began quietly, playing carefully with my fingers, "why don't you fall anymore?"

Confused, I blinked and tilted my head to the left as I stared at him. "What?"

"The way you move. You've become quite graceful, you know. You seem to be maintaining a low center of gravity, especially when you're in a hurry or walking up steps. I love watching you, and I'm relieved that you seem to be able to walk across the room or up the stairs without hurting yourself, but I'm extremely curious how this came about."

"It helps not to wear shoes," I replied. "They really do get in the way." He did not look satisfied with this answer, so I shrugged. "Maybe it's the natural result of living with a family of sure-footed vampires. It was bound to rub off on me some time."

"You climbed the counter the other day. That's not something we've done much of in front of you," he countered.

"That was nothing," I scoffed. "My mother's kindergarteners do that every time they want something they aren't supposed to have from the top shelf."

"You've been like this since I first brought you home," he insisted. "You practically did a back flip off the living room couch."

"Don't exaggerate," I said playfully. "Really, Edward, I don't know when it happened. It's not like I took gymnastic lessons over the Christmas holidays."

"Do you remember the last time you fell?" Edward asked cautiously. He maintained a low tone of voice, sincere and curious, trying to get information without upsetting me.

"This is important to you, isn't it?" I asked in return.

Edward's eyes met mine, and he looked at me with a strange kind of longing. "Yes, it is. Humans go through so many changes, and I missed this one."

"Does it upset you?" I asked, still not answering his question. "Do you miss the clumsy Bella?"

He laughed musically. "Only because it means I don't have the excuse of trying to save you from your own awkward feet to touch you. But no, I don't really miss the clumsiness. I only wish to understand."

I made a concentrated effort to think back. "I don't recall, Edward. I know I fell a few times back when I was still going to school. I only remember that I woke up in the hospital a few days before you came for me, and I didn't trip over my own feet anymore." I thought a moment. "I had shoes there, in my room, but I don't think I ever wore them. They looked brand new, anyway."

"So you don't remember anything about…" he trailed off, deciding not to finish his sentence, though he looked lost in thought.

"I have an idea," I said, putting some enthusiasm in my voice. He would like this, I thought, and I was surprised at how much I liked the idea myself. "Come here." I stood up and tugged his hand, towing him to the center of the empty floor space between the bed and the door.

"What would you like to do?" he asked, curious and amused.

"Well, we're listening to a waltz, right?" I said encouragingly. "And I'm suddenly less of a klutz. Teach me how to dance."

Edward looked at me as if I were an entirely new person. "Dance?" he echoed.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Unless you'd rather go back to bed. But I should warn you, I'm not at all sleepy."

Edward chuckled, placing one hand on my rib cage and delicately clasping the fingers of my right hand with his left, as though holding a cup. "Very well, temptress. The waltz is quite simple. It's just like walking…"

* * *

Wednesday was a strange day for me.

After my morning crying jag, Edward brought me breakfast in bed: poached eggs on toast, which turned out better than I expected from a man who hadn't eaten human food in about ninety years. We spent all morning in our room working on my studies. It was something I'd normally work on downstairs, but Emmett was particularly distracting, and I wanted to start on the new reading material for Alice's English class and finish my calculations for her physics lab. Edward, for his part, was the perfect gentleman, and did not try to touch me in any kind of inappropriate way whatsoever. That annoyed me just a little. Maybe more than a little.

When I came downstairs to make my lunch, I found only Jasper, Esme, and Rosalie. The first thing that caught my attention was that Rosalie stood on the opposite side of the room as the others, a blank expression on her face. The second thing I noticed was that, while Esme and Jasper greeted me with their usual easy, happy demeanor, Rosalie did not say hello, did not wave or nod or look up, did not even acknowledge my presence.

I looked up at Edward, who stood beside me, one hand on the small of my back, looking perfectly at ease. I felt quite calm myself, not at all upset by Rosalie's lack of manners.

I glanced at Jasper, sitting in an arm chair with a heavy looking, leather-bound book in his lap. I gazed back up at Edward, and recognized his listening face.

"Esme," I said breezily, not looking at her but at her daughter, "where's Emmett?"

Rosalie's eyes flickered to mine briefly, but she remained still and emotionless.

"He's gone on an errand for me," Esme said peacefully.

"That was nice of him," I replied. "I'm going to have lunch now."

"Of course, dear. I bought more groceries this morning."

"Thank you," I said politely.

I walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Edward, and Jasper's calming influence did not follow me. I was free to feel suspicious, but not free to ask my questions. I made my cold cut sandwich in silence, speculating. The family was keeping something from me, something that sent Emmett away from the house and made Rosalie irritated with me. Jasper wanted to protect me from it, whatever it was, or he could just be trying to keep Rosalie from launching into a tirade. No, it couldn't be only his sister's problem, because Jasper had calmed everyone, not just Rosalie.

I took my food and drink to my usual spot at the dining room table. Once again I was within range of Jasper's ability. I hunched over my plate and ate quickly, not speaking. Edward sat on my left, eyes never leaving me. He took my dishes when I was done, and I stayed in my seat for a change, wondering.

Suddenly my abdomen clenched painfully, and I squeezed it tightly and balled up in my chair. I couldn't quite help the low groan forming in my throat.

Crap. This was going to be a problem.

Edward heard me and was instantly at my side, lifting me easily and carrying me up the stairs back to our room where he deposited me under the covers of our bed. I remained in a tightly curled ball, bracing against the pain.

"Cramps?" he guessed, one eyebrow raised.

I squinted up at him. "How'd you know?"

"Alice," he sighed. "She said you'd have cramps today, and that you'd start tomorrow at midmorning."

"Huh," I said, mostly to myself. "I thought she saw the results of decisions."

"She sees weather changes, too, love. Those are patterns of nature. That's all this is."

I thought about that. "Is that why Jasper was calming me? He didn't want my PMS to flare up?" Knowing how irritable and emotional I could get when my hormones were out of whack, I decided that was probably a very good idea. As was Emmett not being downstairs when the cramps started.

Edward chuckled mirthlessly. "Something along those lines."

I sighed. "So do I need to go stay at a hotel for a few days?" Dealing with this problem at school was one thing; there were many other smells in the air to distract my vampires, and I knew from experience that this one was faintly unattractive to them, like rancid meat to a human. But it was madness to think of tempting fate by staying in the house like this.

"Don't be ridiculous," Edward chastised me. "They'll go hunting in Goat Rocks and take advantage of bear season. Carlisle is only going to Olympic National Park for the night because he can't miss work, but you know this won't bother him."

That explained why Rosalie was pissed at me. "I just hate to kick everyone out of their own…" I didn't finish my thought. "Wait, did you just say _they_ are going hunting?"

"I'm staying here with you, of course. It's not like we've never dealt with this before, and we already know what precautions to take. Everything will be fine; Esme bought everything you need at the store this morning."

I started to argue, but a very nasty tug in my lower right side cut me off. "Did she happen to buy a heating pad?" I groaned.

There was a rush of wind, and Edward was sliding the much-needed apparatus under the blanket for me. "Thanks," I muttered, adjusting my position and switching the controls to the highest setting. He'd already plugged it in.

"You're welcome," Edward said, looking at me with concern. "Do you want anything for the pain?"

"No, no, I'll be alright. Why are you staying with me?"

Edward looked worried and slightly hurt. "Would you rather I go?"

I glared at him. "Now who's being ridiculous? I just want to know _why_, Edward. You almost never did before." How well I remembered the long, empty nights when he'd insisted on the extra precaution and left early.

He sat on the bed and reached over to stroke my hair. It was comforting. "Alice told me about the nightmare you had last time I went away," he whispered gently. "I won't hurt you like that again."

"Aw, see, this is exactly why I didn't want you to know," I groaned in protest. "I don't want you to feel guilty every time you have to leave me, and I don't want you to avoid hunting when you really need to. You get upset, then I get upset about that, then you worry about my feelings, and it's just a never ending cycle of unnecessary angst."

"I've told you how absurd you are, right?" Edward muttered. "Bella, I promise you that I will hunt whenever it becomes necessary. Right now it's not. As for feeling guilty every time I leave you…I suppose there's not much I can do about that other than try not to be gone too long and hunt in the daytime when you're still awake. I won't leave you to deal with nightmares and repressed memories all alone, Bella. It's my fault you even have them."

I shook my head slowly. There would be no arguing with him, and my head was starting to pound anyway. "Can you bring me some Midol and a glass of water, please?" It took him all of three seconds to get what I needed. I downed the medication greedily. "Thank you. And can you tell Rosalie I'm sorry, please? I don't want her to be mad at me. I'm totally willing to just go stay at a hotel if it makes her feel more comfortable."

"I'll tell her," Edward promised, "but it's completely unnecessary."

_Oh, right_, I thought. I'd forgotten that she could hear our entire conversation. "Thanks," I said. "Now bring me a chocolate bar."

"I remembered," he smiled, and drew a small one out of his shirt pocket. "Make it last, because you only get one per day."

"Jerk," I muttered, snatching the candy bar from his fingers. Edward just laughed.

* * *

That evening I sat downstairs to make my phone call to my father. The whole family was present for a change, although Rosalie seemed intent on ignoring me in favor of her computer. Edward threw a withering look her way, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. Emmett, back from whatever "errand" he'd been sent on, sat in front of the muted television, flexing his arm and glancing at me every so often with a curious expression. Jasper stood behind me, resting one hand on my shoulder but not doing anything yet. Esme and Alice sat on either side of me on the couch. Carlisle watched me from his seat a few feet away, and I did not miss the way he seemed to be assessing me. Edward kneeled on the floor in front of me, one hand resting on my leg, and handed me the phone.

I scrolled through the programmed numbers until I came to Charlie.

One deep breath.

Send.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad."

"Bella? Hi sweetie. I'm so glad you called. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just got home from work, and I thought I'd call you before I hit the sack."

"Really?" Pause. "Where are you working?"

"I'm waitressing. I just got off a double shift, so I'm exhausted."

"Oh yeah? Any place I know?" Fishing.

"Nope." Long pause.

"Oh."

"Did you call Renee?"

"I sure did. She was real upset, Bella. You need to call her."

Heart rate picking up. Jasper's hand squeezing.

"I'd rather not, Dad. You know how she gets." Flat voice.

Heavy sigh. "Yeah, I know. It's excessive. You're probably too tired to deal with it right now."

"Yeah. If she calls, tell her I said hi."

Long pause.

"Tell her you said 'hi?'" Incredulity.

"Yeah, Charlie. Tell her I'm okay."

"That's all you have to say to your mother? You haven't spoken to her in months, Bella! Two months! She's worried out of her mind about you. It was all Phil and I could do to convince her not to call the damned military to search for you. And all you can say is 'hi?'"

Shame. Guilt. Eyes shut.

"Tell her I love her."

"Do you know what you've put her through, what you've put _me_ through? Isabella Swan, you tell me where you are _right now, _young lady! I'm coming to get you, I'm bringing you home, and I don't want to hear any arguments."

Anger.

Jasper wasn't stopping the anger.

"Oh, so _now_ you want me to come home, Charlie? Whose idea was it for me to get out of Forks? You wanted me not to be miserable. You wanted me to leave. I was sitting in the middle of class trying to figure out where I'd go if—no, _when_—you kicked me out. Hell, you and Renee sent me to a damned _insane asylum_! Do you have any idea what kind of hell _I've_ been through for the last six months? Do you know how hard it's been for me to figure out my life? And now you're pissed off because it's not turning out exactly the way you want, because I'm not skipping back to be your housekeeper and pretending nothing happened? Sorry to disappoint you, Charlie, but that's not how it works."

"Bella, I didn't mean it like that." Shock.

"Then how did you mean it, Charlie? I'm doing the best I can here to rebuild my life. What more do you _want_ from me?"

"I want you to come home, Bella. I love you."

Anger washed away.

"Charlie, I love you, and I love Mom. Truly, I do. But I'm not ready to see you yet." A surprising truth.

"I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have said those things. Please, I just want to see you and make sure you're safe. I miss you."

Tears. Remorse. "I'm sorry Dad. I shouldn't have gone off like that. I feel terrible. I miss you too."

"Will you come home for a visit?"

Sigh. "I can't take off work, I just got started."

"Tell me where you are, and I'll come visit you." Desperation.

"No."

Pause.

"I've got to get to sleep, Charlie. I'm exhausted."

Pause.

"Charlie? Are you okay?"

Sniff. "Isn't there anything I can do to get you to come home?" Pleading.

Eyes shut against tears. "I doubt it, Charlie. I'm settling in here."

"But what about school?"

"Don't worry about it. That's my problem now, not yours."

"But Bella…"

"I've got to go. Love you, Dad. Eat some fruit and bran muffins once in a while, please. You don't even have to cook them."

"Yeah honey. Love you too. I'll pass your message along to Renee."

"Bye Charlie."

"Bye Bells."

End.

I slumped forward into Edward's waiting arms and buried my face in his neck, my whole body quivering in shame and grief. Jasper released my shoulder almost reluctantly. As soon as he did, the wailing began.

Many cold hands rubbed and stroked my back, hair, and arms, and gentle voices tried to soothe. I heard none of their words. I simply sobbed into Edward and wished the earth would swallow me for what I'd done to my father.

One voice did break through, a golden voice.

"Bella," Carlisle said firmly, "I need you to look at me now."

I wiped my face on Edward's shirt, probably ruining it forever, and looked up into his father's face, sobs still choking my throat.

He completed his assessment very quickly, checking my temperature, blood pressure, pulse, breathing, and heaven knew what else in a matter of minutes. "Are you in any physical pain?"

The qualifying distinction was important. "No." Not physical pain.

"Edward, take her upstairs. She needs sleep. Jasper, go with them in case she needs help. We're leaving in half an hour." There was an urgency in Carlisle's voice I didn't understand.

Two seconds later Edward was wrapping me in an extra blanket and tucking me into my side of the bed as though I were a young child. It felt nice, actually. But I wasn't ready for sleep. I had something to say first.

"What the hell was that, Jasper?" I hissed at the honey blonde towering over me. "I thought you were going to help me."

He sighed. "Bella, you won't understand this right now, but this is something I had to let happen. I restrained you just enough to keep it from getting out of hand."

"That is such a crock of—" I began, but he interrupted me.

"You were going to confront him about those things eventually. We talked about them in our session the other day, remember?" he reminded me gently. "Better that it happened now, in the early stages of contact, rather than have it build up over time and be that much worse when you see him again for the first time."

"And you couldn't have warned me?" I growled. "You let me go in blind, Jasper! Now my dad really thinks I hate him. What do you think that fight will do to him? He's not a healthy young man anymore. What if I'd given him a heart attack? What if he decides to start drinking? How could you let me do that to my own father?" Fresh tears flew outward and I wailed again, sounding like something between a cat and a banshee.

"I'm truly sorry it had to be that way, Bella," Jasper apologized strangely. Then he stretched out a hand, and the lethargy was so sudden and severe that I saw nothing but black almost instantly. I heard murmured arguments nearby, but I couldn't bring myself to listen.

_Charlie…_


	9. Erratic

Chapter 9 Erratic

_Human thought is like a monstrous pendulum; it keeps swinging from one extreme to the other._

~Eugene Field

I was scouring the woods, searching, searching, calling out. "Charlie? Charlie?" I heard a light breath beside me and turned. Edward was running alongside me, calling for Charlie as well. We flew through the trees together, side by side, combing the forest for my father, ranging out with our senses for his voice, for the scent of gun oil and fishing gear. Jays squawked overhead, and two squirrels chattered angrily at each other. I sniffed hopefully at some lingering trace in the air and started to follow it. Edward called me away from the trail I'd picked up, claiming he'd heard Charlie answering back…

And I was awake, sitting up quickly in bed, scanning the room that looked pale grey in the predawn light from the window.

"Bella?" Edward said tentatively, sitting up beside me, one stone arm pulling across my back. "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

I leaned into the hollow under his arm and took a minute to examine myself. How _did_ I feel?

"Better, I guess." A familiar pinch tugged at me. "I have another cramp." I lay back down, shut my eyes, and arched my back, trying to stretch the cramp away. My blankets were twisted around my legs. I had slept in my clothes from the previous day, and I felt my shirt riding up my stomach as I stretched.

Edward's breath caught. My eyes flashed up to him. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head.

"What?" I wondered.

"It's nothing," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Okay, I guess." I stretched again and watched his face. His lips parted the tiniest bit. Hmm. "I'm still a little tired. I can't believe I woke up so early."

I checked my watch.

6:24 A.M.

Thursday

April 1

April Fool's Day.

This was going to be so much fun.

With a boldness that took me by surprise, I looked up at him, spread my arms across the bed, bit my lip, and arched my back so much there was a good six inches of air between my torso and the mattress. My shirt slid even further up, exposing a few ribs. "Mmmm," I murmured huskily.

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

"There," I said demurely after enjoying his expression for several seconds. "All better."

Edward cleared his throat unnecessarily, eyes still closed. "So you didn't have any nightmares?"

I fell back to the bed with a soft _thump_; my mouth popped open in surprise. He was right. I hadn't dreamt about the hospital at all.

"No," I whispered, awed. "I didn't. It was just…a dream." I stared up at the ceiling and pondered that.

Edward lay back down and rested his head carefully on my shoulder. He laid a cold arm across my stomach as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked quietly.

"Didn't I say anything?" I asked, still wondering at this new mystery.

"You said your father's name a few times," he admitted. "And mine. It was nice to hear."

"Hmm." That seemed to match what I remembered. "It was like my forest dream, but instead of looking for you alone, you and I were looking for Charlie together. It wasn't a _good_ dream, but it wasn't a nightmare."

"That's an improvement," Edward commented peacefully. We lay quietly together, just breathing, for a few more minutes. "Did you fall asleep?" he whispered.

"No, I was just thinking about the dream. It was so odd. We were running, but not the way you and I usually run. You weren't carrying me; we were running _together._ Everything you could do, I could do just as well."

Edward stayed very still.

"Does that upset you?" I asked timidly.

After a short pause, he answered, "I'm not sure."

Instantly my mind raced with new possibilities. Could Edward be reconsidering his long-held conviction against my being changed? I hadn't allowed myself to think about it in months, not since the day he left, but his sudden, subtle shift in attitude gave rise to new hope.

Hope that he immediately quelled. "It was merely a dream," he reminded me.

_Yes, it was._

I closed my eyes and pushed away the strange lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. Focusing on my breathing, I redirected my thoughts to something else, anything else.

"So what do I usually say when I'm having a nightmare?" My voice sounded a little strangled, but that was in keeping with my question. "You never told me."

Attuned as he was to my changes in mood, Edward raised his head to look at me. I deliberately blurred my vision, not allowing myself to focus on the ocher eyes that searched my face. The action of it was uncomfortable, but I persevered. Hopefully he would think I was only trying not to be upset about my nightmares.

"Bella?" he said, suddenly worried. "Bella!" He shook my shoulder a little. My focus returned to him.

"What? What is it?" Why was he acting this way? "Edward, what's wrong?"

Strangely enough, he buried his face in my neck and exhaled in relief. "You scared me," he mumbled into my throat. "I thought you were…" He didn't finish.

I rolled my eyes. "And you say I'm prone to overreaction." He sighed again and brushed his fingers across my cheekbone. "So are you going to answer my question?" I pressed.

Edward lifted his head and stared into my eyes, evaluating me. I stared right back, trying to understand what he was looking for. "You mostly cry," he said sadly. "You say 'no' and 'please stop' quite often, and sometimes 'doctor.' Usually you sound like you're in pain."

I closed my eyes again. I had been frightening him, paining him every night without even realizing it. "I'm sorry, Edward," I whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Bella," he said crossly, "if there's anything you have no business apologizing for, it's that. I'm just relieved you had one night of comparative peace."

"Yeah," I replied. "Me too." And I really was.

We were mostly alone together for four full days. As promised, Esme had stocked the third floor bathroom with everything I needed, including flushable products, five gallons of bleach, six bottles of alcohol, wooden kitchen matches, and a metal bucket for burning anything that couldn't be washed or flushed. I showered twice a day, cleaned the bathroom often, kept most of the windows open, ran the washing machine as many times as was necessary, and insisted that Edward hunt at least once for a few hours on Saturday morning while his father stayed with me. The whole thing was a headache, but I didn't complain. Edward and I were together, and I could endure a few days inconvenience for that.

I had no more nightmares, only dreams of Edward, Charlie, or occasionally Renee. Edward was overjoyed by this development and even called Jasper to convey the news. I wished Jasper had been more upfront with me about whatever it was he felt I needed to say to Charlie, but I couldn't deny that the resentment issues were there. I still felt guilty about what I'd said to my father, how irrational I'd been when I knew better, but there was nothing I could do about it until it was time to call him again. I tried not to let Edward see how much it bothered me when we talked about it. We agreed that I would wait for Jasper to come home so he could help me apologize and maintain my charade, and this time Jasper was going to help me the way I needed him to.

Carlisle was out of the house often, working long shifts at the hospital. He asked me every morning how I was feeling, whether I was uncomfortable at all, if I felt sick. His concern was touching and endearing, but I assured him that other than being a little tired, something that generally happened to me at this time, I felt completely normal.

The afternoon of Monday, April 5th, the rest of the family (minus the perpetually busy Carlisle) came home. Alice and Esme rushed to me for hugs, which I returned enthusiastically; I'd really missed them. Jasper smiled at me hesitantly from across the room but did not come near, and I wondered if being away from me for so long meant he needed time to desensitize to my scent again before we'd be able to resume closer contact. I certainly didn't want to put too much temptation before him by forcing him to stand with his hand on my shoulder if he wasn't ready to deal with that yet. Looking at him, I found that I didn't really need his verbal apology for what had passed before. I could feel it, even at a distance. So I grinned back, just a little, and knew he'd understand.

Rosalie gave me a slight smile and a quick hello, then went upstairs to her room to shower and change—everyone usually did this after hunting to wash away the scent of their kills. Emmett smirked, wiggled his eyebrows at me, and flashed up the staircase after her. Everyone, including me, groaned collectively. I would have to wait until much later before I could call Charlie; there was no way I could concentrate with those two yowling in the background.

* * *

Rose and Emmett emerged from upstairs after my dinner, looking extremely pleased with each other. Edward and I exchanged smirks, grateful that the noise was over. Jasper, sensitive as ever, declared a wish to be "anywhere but here," and went out for a run with Alice, promising to help me with my phone call when he returned. I leaned against Edward on the couch, watching some random cooking show that promised simple, one-pan recipes. The chicken recipe looked incredibly boring, but the steak seemed like it might be interesting if I served it medium rare. Edward looked at me like I was a stranger when I said this, but I just shrugged.

Emmett, apparently in good humor after his little tryst, decided to tease me. "So Bella, are you up for a wrestling match? I'll tie both hands and one leg behind my back."

"No thanks, Emmett," I replied idly, craning my neck around his giant, imposing form. "I'd just as soon not be ground into dust by an ox."

He roared with laughter, then reached down with one enormous arm to mess with my hair. "Don't worry, little one, I won't hurt you."

_Don't worry, little one, he'll get tired of you._

I blinked. There was a click.

I was shaking violently, pressed against the wall, reaching for the door. Voices were all around me, panicked, pale faces. Someone was shrieking, snarling weakly.

It was me.

My hand found the doorknob at last. I twisted it and rushed through the doorway, adrenaline coursing through me as I followed my only thought: _run!_

I almost made it to the steps before the strong arms caught me and clamped down. My body reacted automatically, twisting and contorting, bucking against the restraint, my strange hisses and cries erupting every few seconds. The arms only constricted more tightly across my chest, pinning my arms to my sides, so I used my legs to struggle and kick, to lock around the porch railing. The arms juggled me around until I was completely unable to move, and I knew I'd lost. The adrenaline faded, and I saw only blinding white.

_The derivative of x^2 + x is 2x + 1. The derivative of 2x^2 + 2x is 4x + 2. The derivative of 3x^2 + 3x is 6x + 3. The derivative of 4x^2 + 4x is 8x + 4._

A muscular, blonde, blue-eyed man threw me onto a tiny bed in a white room.

_Don't worry, little one, he'll get tired of you. He'll be just as bored with you as he is with all the others. And then I'll make you forget that boy's name._

A rough, sandpapery hand slapped me hard across the cheek.

And I was howling in sheer blind terror, struggling with all my might to break free, screeching in fierce pain and horror, caught between the desire to escape and the instinct to claw out the eyes of whoever was clutching at my wrists…

"_Bella!"_

It was almost a roar, but the voice was just familiar enough to make me snap to my true surroundings. My shrieks ceased suddenly as I blinked and scanned the room.

Iron arches. Gold walls. Shelves to my left, sofa to my right. From behind me and to the left, an arm with the strength of titanium wrapped across my chest, while another restrained my hands as carefully as possible. The arms were connected to the desperate velvet voice muttering in my ear, the voice that had just yelled my name. A large group of people—no, vampires—were scattered around the room, whispering urgently. Six of them, not four.

The two blonde males hovered nearby, looking anxious and concerned, but they were pale, not tan, golden-eyed and familiar as my eyes cleared. I already knew they could be trusted, as could the small, dark-haired female and the taller, round-faced female speaking in soothing tones.

I zeroed in on the largest male standing near the door. He had the same large build as the man who'd hit me, but his hair was dark and curly, and his expression was worried and slightly apologetic, not violent or malicious.

Then my eyes landed on the blonde female hanging back in the doorway, the only visible exit. She seemed confused, upset, and not unkind. But her eyes glittered angrily when she locked on mine, and my fight or flight reflex landed on fight.

My eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my hands attempted to curl into claws. I felt my muscles coil up and my spine try to arch in a strange way, but the stone arms held me tighter. A strange hiss began to build in my chest, and I recognized Edward snarling at the same time.

"Rosalie!" Jasper hissed. A sudden wave of lethargy hit me, and I drooped lazily back onto the bed, my hiss vanishing before it could reach my throat. Edward's arms relaxed and released my wrists. I felt a little sore, but I didn't care much about it. Rosalie almost seemed to stagger before Emmett took her hand and escorted her from the room. Although I couldn't make myself care much about that either, Edward seemed to care a great deal. He was hissing about something, anyway, before he turned his undivided attention back to me.

I whimpered quietly for a moment. Edward kissed my temple and carefully unraveled his arms from around me, pulling the tangles of hair away from my face instead. "Bella? Can you speak?"

I couldn't do more than shake my head slightly and sigh.

Carlisle leaned over me to check my pulse. "What happened to her, Jasper?"

"She was terrified and repulsed at first. It was different than the way she usually feels at the end of a nightmare. More…dread. Revulsion. And she didn't just want to run; she wanted to defend herself." Carlisle seemed to be examining my wrists for something as his son spoke.

Jasper's eyes grew hard. "Then Rosalie let her hostility show, and Bella picked up on it right away." He snickered mirthlessly, and I thought I saw Esme dart out of the room with an irate expression on her face. "Bella, you really should stop trying to confront every vampire who looks at you the wrong way. It's not good for your health."

I nodded weakly, closing my eyes. I didn't want to pay attention anymore.

"What's wrong with her?" Alice whispered.

"From what Edward told me," Jasper replied quietly, "it sounds like something Emmett said must have set her off. And now this…I believe we're dealing with another repressed memory."

"She seemed to be talking about someone new in her sleep," Edward murmured.

"Boys," Carlisle warned, his hands gingerly pressing my rib cage, "I know you're curious, but please give her a little more time before you question her. I'm concerned about…" he said the rest too low for me to understand, but I was too sleepy to wonder. Their voices faded away into the black behind my eyes.

* * *

I awoke from dreamless sleep lying on my left side, facing the wall of shelves. Rare sunlight was streaming through the window. Rainbows danced across the walls and ceiling. Edward's arms were not around me, but I felt him behind me, his familiar, long fingers tracing gentle patterns on my right arm.

I moved my left arm up a little and twisted it to check my watch.

2:34 P.M.

Wednesday

April 7

Two days since everyone came home.

My wrists were sore, but not discolored. I'd been sleeping for several hours, it felt like, but I couldn't remember why, or what had happened before.

I rolled over to face Edward, and found that my chest ached. I groaned slightly.

"Edward?"

He pulled his hand back to his side and scrutinized my face. "How are you feeling?"

I reached over carefully and took his hand into mine. "Sore. Edward, what happened?"

He sighed. "How far back do you need me to go?"

I took a moment to process that. "I can't remember anything after…Monday afternoon," I whispered. Food Network…steak…

"One minute Emmett was teasing you," Edward began, "and suddenly you were swearing and snarling at him and running for the door. It was just like the first time, only you were slightly slower and fought differently." He paused, obviously ashamed of something. "I'm sorry, Bella. I tried not to hurt you, but you were jerking against me too hard. Your arms and chest are badly bruised, but Carlisle says no bones are broken."

I stretched each of my limbs in turn and discovered he was right. My legs didn't hurt, though, which was good news to me. "What happened after that?" I asked.

He looked down at the space between us. "You stayed in our room all that night and all day yesterday, and you only got up to use the restroom and let Carlisle x-ray you. You wouldn't speak, you wouldn't look at anyone, you barely ate anything at all; you just sat on the bed and stared out the window."

This surprised me. I'd been able to function through the haze when I lived with Charlie. Life on autopilot. This information made no sense to me.

"What else?"

He shut his eyes as though trying not to see something horrifying. "You really don't remember this morning?"

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. It was like swimming through tree sap. "You yelled at me."

"Yes," he said quietly. "I was trying to wake you up."

"Before that, someone hit me." My face didn't hurt, but the slap echoed across my skin, like a reverberating drum.

Edward's voice was alarmed. "I would never! That must have been part of your dream."

"And I wanted to…fight…Rosalie?" This memory was wrong on so many levels. "Why would I want to do that?"

Low growls rumbled from Edward's chest through the mattress, and my eyes flew open. "Believe me; I nearly went for her throat myself."

Astonished, I gasped out, "Why?"

Edward looked toward the doorway. "Jasper was right," he said, making no attempt at modulating the volume of his voice. "She should not have returned."

"Shhhh!" I hissed at him. That was supposed to be a _secret_. "She'll hear you! Are you trying to start a family feud?"

He looked at me incredulously. "You care what she thinks right now?"

"Of course I do!" I growled at him, suddenly outraged. "She's your sister. She and Emmett are _family_. No stupid grudge is worth jeopardizing that, Edward. I refuse to be the thing that tears you all apart. Whatever happened, it was an accident. It wasn't her fault I had a nightmare and lost all sense of reason." With that, I threw the heavy blankets off me and crawled angrily to the foot of the bed, ignoring the pain as I went.

"Where do you think you're going?" Edward demanded, instantly standing in front of me.

"To talk to Rosalie," I said stubbornly.

"No, you most certainly are not!" Edward argued hotly. "Just stay away from her until I say otherwise."

"This is ridiculous, Edward," I shot back. I threw back my head and yelled. "Rosalie! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I ruined everything for you. I'm sorry—"

Edward covered my mouth gently but firmly with one hand. "Stop it, Bella. It won't do any good. She's so wrapped up in her own bitter existence she can't fathom that anyone besides herself might be suffering."

I twisted my face away from his hand. "I have to try. I won't cause your family more pain, Edward. It's not right."

"This is not your decision, Bella. It's hers." He looked toward the doorway and raised his voice again. "She can decide right now what's more important to her: herself, or our family. _All_ of our family."

I stopped suddenly and peered at Edward. His head was still turned toward the doorway, eyes angry. My indignation evaporated as suddenly as a drop of water on a white-hot poker.

I wasn't just his girlfriend.

I wasn't something he loved separately from his parents and siblings.

I was part of his family. _He_ saw me as part of his family. This was not the same as Alice or Esme telling me I was their sister or daughter. This was Edward telling me I belonged with them.

I flung my arms around his neck with total abandon and both kissed and cried into his shoulder.

Edward, for his part, was completely dumbfounded by my sudden shift in mood. "Where did this come from?" he said as he pulled his arms around my waist. "What are you crying about?"

I laughed and was surprised to find happy tears raining down my face. "You're the only man I know who can take me from fury to euphoria in the space of three seconds without altering my body chemistry."

"You are a strange girl, Bella," he said, and kissed my nose. "You've definitely covered a wide range of emotions today. Are you certain you're feeling well?"

"I suppose I am strange," I murmured, not answering his question. "I'm never going to be normal, am I?"

"Nor would I wish you to be," he whispered.

My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly at us. "Why don't you take a minute to be human while I get you something to eat?" he suggested. I nodded happily, picked out some clean clothes from the closet, and traipsed off to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later I was seated at the dining room table, damp-haired and refreshed, quietly anticipating whatever Edward had in store for me. It was just a hot sandwich, some chips, and a glass of lemonade, but it was nice to let someone else fix lunch, and he seemed proud of himself.

All through my meal Edward stared at me protectively, one hand resting on my left arm. I chewed thoughtfully, allowing myself to remember the events of the morning. I had no idea I was even _capable_ of such a violent reaction, but there it was, staring me in the face. There had not even been a conscious thought to it; my body perceived the threat and reacted instinctively. Not at all like that time in Port Angeles…

Port Angeles.

Those men. They wanted to—_he_ wanted to…

I blinked.

I was standing in the kitchen, snarling again, knees bent, leaning slightly forward, seeing someone else.

"Put it down, Bella. You'll hurt yourself."

I glanced down at my fist, curled around something. It was a serrated kitchen knife.

"Bella? Can you hear me? Please, love. I don't want to take it from you. Just put it down on the counter behind you."

I focused on the white face speaking so calmly to me.

"Please, my love. Put the knife down."

The angel.

Slowly, I reached behind me and gingerly laid the knife down on the granite surface. I took two careful steps forward, examining this glorious creature with gold-rimmed eyes. He spread his arms invitingly.

"I love you, Bella."

Edward.

I rushed into his arms, crushing myself to his stone body and sobbing violently. Edward held me close, shushing me, promising that I was in a safe place. My body shook so hard I was no longer able to stand on my own, so Edward scooped me up and carried me to the living room sofa. I stayed curled up against his chest as he lay back against the armrest and stroked my hair. Esme had a blanket ready and tucked it around me, asking Edward if she should call Carlisle to come home from work. Alice and Jasper leaned over the back of the couch, their faces anxious. Jasper started to reach for my shoulder, but Alice pulled his hand back and shook her head.

I felt a familiar churning in my stomach, and Alice picked me up and whisked me to the downstairs powder room. The acrid scent of stomach acid, sugar, lemons, and ham filled my nose as I retched over and over. Alice held my hair back from my face and lightly pressed her freezing fingers to the nape of my neck, whispering words of comfort. I slumped over after a final dry heave, and someone's white hand thrust in the door with my toothbrush and toothpaste. Alice supported my weight while I cleansed the sour stench from my mouth and washed my face.

I happened to see my reflection in the small vanity mirror. The girl there looked somewhat familiar, but ashen, gaunt, and worn down, her tears dripping silently like candle wax. She'd been through too much for her years; she was changing into a different creature every second. I did not want to look at her again.

Edward met us outside the bathroom door, swaddled the blanket around me again, and carried me gently back up the stairs at a human pace. We passed Emmett and Rosalie on the way. Rosalie, I noted, looked concerned, something I had not anticipated. Edward did not appear to acknowledge her at all, but I knew he could hear her thoughts.

Edward laid me down carefully on the edge of my bed and kneeled beside me, his head so close to mine. His entire face was contorted in agony and grief, and I wondered if he was seeing the strange girl I'd seen in the mirror. My eyes stung with a fresh wave of moisture; it hurt so much to see him look at me that way.

Voices in the room distracted me. I raised my head to see who'd come. My eyes slid past Jasper, past Alice and Esme, past even Rosalie, and landed on the advancing figure wearing a white coat.

I blinked.

I was sitting up, back ramrod straight, right arm extended with my palm up, hand cupped expectantly.

"Bella? What is it? What do you want?" he asked.

I blinked at him—I did not understand the question. Since when was I allowed to choose?

Oh. He must not be using pills today. I lifted my arm higher and pushed my sleeve up, exposing the veins in the crook of my elbow. My tracks were still there, though they seemed to be healing. My fist clenched automatically. I waited.

"I'll be good," I promised.

He did not move. He did not call for anyone.

I sighed and blurred my eyes against the contrasting colors around me. It was going to be one of those nights. I hoped _he_ would be satisfied with a minimum of slaps.

_Two squared is four. Three squared is nine. Four squared is sixteen. Five squared is twenty-five. Six squared is—_

"Bella, stop it!"

My eyes widened in shock. Edward, still crouched next to the bed, shook my shoulders, rattling me. His eyes were fierce, desperate. He placed a frigid hand on my face. "Please, Bella. Please. Don't go numb again. I can't bear it."

I smiled weakly at his angel face, sparkling as a cloud moved away from the sun. He was just so beautiful. "Okay," I muttered. I started to cry again, he looked so beaten. He moaned pitifully and buried his face in my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping to comfort my sobbing angel.

"What do we do?" Esme asked urgently.

"I don't know," Carlisle answered. He suddenly sounded like a very old man.

"Jasper," Alice whispered. "Help her now. She'll just deteriorate if you don't."

Jasper looked down at me, and I was better than calm. I was completely at peace. Slowly I lowered myself back to the pillow, the one that smelled so strongly of Edward, and closed my eyes.


	10. Things Remembered

Chapter 10 Things Remembered

_He that conceals his grief finds no remedy for it._

~Turkish Proverb

I soared above the clouds, racing across the brilliant blue sky that normally hid behind all the rainy Forks weather. Birds looked at me in wonder as I spiraled around them, twisting gracefully through the air. I dipped into a cloud and was mesmerized by the cold, moist whiteness all over my body.

And then the white nothing became a white room, small, cramped with office furniture. A patch of late sunlight tried to find a way into the room. Dr. McCoig was burning me, jabbing me, stinging me with every word. I sat, crippled with pain, on a small armchair, holding myself together as best I could. He looked over at someone else in the room, dressed in pale green.

_Give her the tranquilizer._

A large hand squeezed my arm tight, making my veins rise painfully, before shoving a syringe in the largest one. I wanted to fight him off, but my body was too weak from the stunner to move.

_Take her to her room._

The large hands jerked me to my feet and threw me over wide shoulders, carrying me through a dreary hallway and into another tiny white room, tossing me down roughly onto a tiny bed.

_I've got something special for you tonight, little one… Pete'll love this. That wasn't a tranq, darlin'. Now you sit tight until tomorrow. I've got a hot date tonight, so I won't come back for you just yet. Don't worry; your turn will be here in a few more weeks. I just want to have a little fun before I go._

Angry, disgusting hands gripped my legs hard enough to leave bruises, and the sound of jangling keys assaulted my ears. But they weren't my ears, and they weren't my legs, and the toilet in the corner was a cardboard cut-out, and an army of soldier ants climbed into my brain, and it wasn't my brain, and it wasn't real, and it wasn't me, a screaming tiger in a tree in a cage in a zoo circus playground park forest tree blood lost hell tree…

I screeched at the top of my lungs, fingers twisted up into claws, and saw nothing. The room was absolutely dark, and there was no one standing over me, no one lying next to me, no one restraining me, no soothing voices, no cool hands stroking my hair, nothing, just nothing, black and awful, encroaching on me, pushing the air out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for oxygen.

Light blinded me from overhead as someone flicked a light switch. I shut my eyes against it and reached up to cover my face as my breathing returned to normal. Edward's worried voice materialized beside me, soft and smooth. "Bella? You're safe, my love. You're at home."

"What day is it?" I asked, not wanting to uncover my eyes to check my watch. _I don't remember, it was just a dream. I don't remember, it was just a dream._

"It's Tuesday, very early Tuesday. Would you like me to switch to the lamp?"

"Yes, please," I said, twisting my wrist to check the time as soon as the light changed.

3:02 A.M.

Tuesday

April 20

"Where were you?" I asked. It was so rare for me not to wake up next to him.

"Downstairs, talking to Carlisle and Jasper. I didn't expect you to awake this early, or I'd have been here. I'm so sorry, love." He really did sound remorseful. And tired. Vampires didn't get tired.

"It's all right, Edward. I'm fine. I didn't even scream that long this time."

He looked pained when I said that, and I regretted it immediately. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that, I meant—"

"I know, Bella," he said kindly. "I know." He reached tentatively for my hand, and I obliged. "Bella, I think it's time you and Jasper—"

"No!" I shouted, dropping his hand and rolling away, knocking my hardback copy of _Frankenstein_ to the floor. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It's been weeks, Bella," he said, beginning to lose his cool. "You won't talk to me, you won't talk to Alice or Jasper or anyone about it. You refuse to call Charlie or Renee. You won't take medication. You're not eating enough. You won't let anyone near you anymore. You blast my stereo all day to drown everyone out, and any little thing that anyone says sends you into fits of fear and rage. All night long you cry out like someone's beating you, and when you wake up you want to pretend it was nothing. I can't take it anymore. Enough."

I sat up and sneered at him. I didn't want to ban him from my room, too, but I would if I absolutely had to. "You will _not_ force this out of me, Edward Cullen! I just have to figure out how to push this down, and everything will be fine."

"_Fine_," he said scathingly, running his hand through his hair as though trying to tear it out. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "Every night I watch you thrash and moan like you're being pummeled within an inch of your life. Every night! For _hours_. And I can't do one damn thing to stop it. In what way will that ever be _fine_, Bella?"

"I just need more time," I cried, my eyes filling with angry tears. "Edward, I can't rush this, I'm not ready for it."

"You don't need more time, Bella!" he shouted, black eyes glinting madly. "You're stalling. I've done everything I can to be sensitive about this, I've tried not to pressure you, but the fact is you're avoiding something that refuses to be ignored. These memories are trying to push their way to the surface, and you have to _deal_ with that! Please, Bella, you have to if you ever want to be happy again."

I shut my eyes to him. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right about one thing: I hadn't been happy in weeks.

"Please, Edward," I whispered. "I'm begging you. Don't make me do this. It's too much."

"I'm sorry, Bella," Edward said, his voice hard. "I have to." I opened my eyes in time to see him turn his face to the door and open his mouth to call out. I knew I had only seconds. My eyes blurred around him.

_The derivative of 4x +4 is 4. The derivative of x^2 is 2x. The derivative of 3x^3 is 9x^2. The derivative of—_

"Oh no, you don't," Jasper's voice filled my ears as an electric pulse shot through my body. "Bella, you must. It's the only way."

"No!" I snarled at him, allowing the electricity to fill me and redirect into an emotion I could use. "Get out! You have no right! This is _my_ pain! You can't force me to relive it and make it a hundred times worse just to satisfy your curiosity. Leave me alone!"

"Stop it, Bella," Jasper replied smoothly. "You know that's not what this is. And we have _every_ right to do this. Your pain is our pain. And not just because I feel everything you feel due to what I am. We _love_ you, Bella. It hurts all of us, seeing you like this. Let me help you."

It was moving, hearing that Jasper loved me, that they all did. But I didn't want to let it in. I didn't ask for help. I couldn't do what he asked. "No, Jasper. I can't. I'm sorry, it hurts too much. You need to leave."

"Bella—" he began to argue, but a striking silver bell voice behind him brought him up short.

"Jasper," Rosalie commanded, "let us talk to her." She and Alice held hands in the doorway, and Esme stood behind them.

Beside me Edward began to growl and took a defensive stance, but Alice cut him off. "Stop it, Edward. This will work, and Jasper won't have to force her."

Edward looked warily at Rosalie. His posture relaxed, but he still didn't look like he trusted her.

"Edward, Jasper, leave us," Esme demanded imperiously. "Now." To my everlasting surprise, they listened. They allowed the ladies into the room and walked silently to the door. Edward threw me a long, miserable stare before closing the door behind him.

I turned my attention to the three women who sat on my bed. It didn't bother me so much, having them there.

"Stupid males," Alice said loudly. "Aggression is not the best way to make a woman open up about her problems." I recognized Jasper's hiss echoing up the stairs.

Rosalie looked me full in the face, and I gazed back at her. She and I had not spoken at all in the last several weeks, though she no longer looked at me like I was some kind of pest. In fact, she had seemed almost kind, shy.

"What is this?" I asked her. "Is this my intervention?"

"Of sorts, yes," she replied. "But first I owe you something."

"You don't owe me anything, Rosalie," I said quietly, "I owe you. I know I messed up the life you had when I came along, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

She shook her head. "No, Bella, you didn't ruin my life. You saved my brother's. I was too vain and self-absorbed to appreciate that for what it was, and I made things difficult for him and you. I resented you for complicating my existence, not seeing that you brought something good along with you, and that it's worth whatever our family has to face to keep you. Certainly you've been much more considerate of my feelings this past month than I've been of yours or anyone else's. I'm sorry, Bella, for how I've behaved. You deserve better from me."

My mouth hung open. To call this part of the conversation unexpected was like calling Mt. Everest rather large. "Where did this acceptance come from?" I asked.

Rosalie smirked. "Esme may have called me a spoiled, ungrateful brat, not to mention a few other choice words. But really, she helped me see what I already knew to be true."

"Bella," Esme drew my attention, "you bring balance to my son. He was a different man before you, a cantankerous, bitter, old man in a boy's body. You've brought him so much joy, helped him to remember compassion, sincerity, tenderness, and love. In changing him, you've brought balance to the rest of the family as well. We are all different with you in our world."

"You don't know how hard we've fought for you, Bella," Alice said. "And I don't just mean James and Victoria. When Edward wanted to leave you, I was furious. I told him you wouldn't survive, but he didn't believe me. He honestly thought you'd be fine after a while, the fool. Esme and I argued with him for days after we left, but he wouldn't listen, and he made me promise not to check on you. And then the pain took him, and he couldn't hear us anymore. He left us for a long time, traveled, but I could still see him, and I knew he was only getting worse.

"Now, Bella," Alice continued more softly, "we have to fight for you in a different way. For both of you. Jasper wasn't lying when he said your pain is our pain. This thing you're hiding from, it will destroy you from the inside out if you don't do something about it. You can't just repress this."

I drew my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. "No," I shook my head. "You don't understand. You don't know what it was like."

"I do," Rosalie said quietly. "I know." And the way she said it gave me pause. I remembered the little Edward had told me about her story, that it had been similar to my Port Angeles experience. But hers must have been much worse, if she had to be changed just to survive. "Believe me, Bella; you will never be free of this if you try to ignore it."

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, but that didn't make their words any less true.

"Please, Bella," Alice begged. "Edward's tried not to let you see, but this is truly hurting him just as much as it hurts you. You have to face it."

I opened my eyes and exhaled loudly as Alice stared at me. "I know I have to eventually, Alice. I do. But it's just so excruciating."

Alice scooted closer to me and did something I didn't expect: she took my arm, turned it over, and drew her index finger across the long scar I'd received on my eighteenth birthday.

"When you cut your arm on all that glass, it hurt, didn't it?"

"Yes," I said, not sure where she was going with this. "Carlisle gave me a local anesthetic to numb the pain, though."

"That's true. Did that really help heal the wound, though? The anesthesia?"

I looked at her face, but she was still regarding my scar. "No. Of course not."

"He had to get all that glass out, clean the wound, and stitch you up," she reminded me. "What did it feel like when the anesthesia wore off?"

I looked down at my arm again, then back at her. "The stitches burned for days. I didn't say anything to Edward, of course, because he was already so upset."

Alice raised her compassionate eyes to mine. "This is going to hurt, too, Bella. You can't leave the glass in the wound, you can't just hope it heals properly on its own without infecting the rest of you, and you can't shield yourself from the pain or hide it from anyone else."

My breath caught, fresh tears splattered down my cheeks, and Alice knew it was time.

"Jasper, Edward," she called in a normal speaking voice. "You can come in now."

* * *

It was strange, that I should talk about so intimate a thing in front of so many people. Jasper began to ask for privacy—a natural assumption, since I hadn't allowed anyone but Edward or Esme in my room in a while—but I stopped him. I needed the support, all the support. Carlisle and Emmett joined the rest of us at my request, and we each sat with our partners. Edward sat on my right side and held my hand in both of his own, staring down at it as though it might very well contain the secrets of the universe.

"Before we begin," I whispered, "I need to say a few things. First, I want you to know that I love you, all of you. I didn't expect it, but you've become the family I never knew I always wanted. Thank you for everything you've done, and everything you are.

"Edward," I said, turning to look at him. He lifted his eyes to mine, and I realized he was terrified. "I love you. More than anything else, I love you. I need you to promise me something now."

"What do you need?" he asked softly.

"Promise me, Edward, that you won't seek revenge. It won't change what happened, it won't make it right, and it won't make you feel better."

"Bella, I can't do that!" he said, his face a combination of anger and despair. "I can't just let him get away with—"

"Edward," Alice interrupted, her eyes glazed. "Stop."

Edward tore his black eyes from me and looked in Alice's general direction. He had his listening face on, and I knew he was caught up in her many visions. I could only guess at the potential futures: Jimmy and Dr. McCoig in prison if I could ever get well enough to testify, or the two of them pale and drained as their blood glowed scarlet from Edward's eyes; Edward returning to me downtrodden with guilt, or excited with accomplishment; my willingness to forgive him warring with my fear that he would suddenly be more likely to take my blood after he'd taken another human's.

"I promise," Edward said quietly, looking down at my hands again. His face was carefully blank, but it sounded like he was telling the truth. He'd fooled me before, though.

"Edward…" I said warningly.

"I promised I would do whatever it takes to earn your trust and forgiveness," he reminded me sadly, meeting my eyes. "Even this."

I searched him for a long moment, and nodded. He wanted my trust, and I wanted to give it.

"Jasper," I said, swiveling my head to look at him, "how do you want to do this?"

Tranquility settled over me in a familiar pattern. "Tell me about the dream from this morning." His voice was low and persuasive. Comforting, like a deep, soft chair.

It was like breathing, so easily did the words come. I might have been answering questions about a painting. "I'm in Dr. McCoig's office this time. It's daytime."

"Do you know what day it is when this happens?"

"Yes. I check my watch at the beginning of every session. It's March 9th."

"That was a few days before I rescued her," murmured the velvet voice beside me.

"What does he do?" Jasper continued.

"He burns me. He teases me. He makes the hole bigger."

"Is anyone else in the room with you?"

"Yes. An orderly."

"Who is he? Do you know his name?"

"Jimmy Warren. It's always Jimmy."

"What does Jimmy do?"

"He waits." I could almost see him in the back corner of the room inside my head, leering at me. "He's waiting for me now."

"Bella, this is not happening to you right now. This is only a memory. Jimmy is not here, and he will never find you."

"He's still waiting." It seemed important to say this. "I'm the one that got away."

A chorus of hisses filled the room.

"He'll never touch you," Edward's deadly soft voice promised. Jimmy faded from my sight.

"Bella," Jasper recalled me, "tell me what happens when Dr. McCoig is done with you."

"He gives me drugs."

"He does this himself?"

"Sometimes he asks Jimmy to do it."

"What does he do this time?"

"He asks Jimmy to tranquilize me. He doesn't want me trying to run away again. Jimmy injects me with something. He's hurting my arm. Dr. McCoig likes that."

A low growl rumbled beside me.

"Don't distract her. Bella, what happens next?"

"Jimmy carries me to my room. He's rough with me. He wants to hurt me."

"Does he do anything else to you?"

Cold fingers gripped my hand marginally tighter.

"He throws me on my bed."

No one breathed but me.

"What else does he do?"

"He talks to me. He promises me things."

"What things?"

"He says the doctor will get bored with me. He says I'll be his after that. He says I'll forget Edward."

"Does he touch you?"

"Yes. He squeezes my legs. He knocks me around. He loves to beat me. He loves to bruise my legs. He says it's how he kisses me."

"Does he…did he take off your clothes?"

"No. He says he has a date."

Several sighs of mingled relief and disgust echoed around me.

"Does he try to do anything sexual to you?"

"He says it will be a few more weeks. Pete has to get bored with me first."

"Pete?"

"The doctor. Jimmy calls him Pete."

"Bella, what else can you tell me about that day?"

"Jimmy is happy. He's playing a trick on Pete."

"A trick? What kind of trick?"

"He didn't give me tranquilizers this time."

"What did he give you, Bella?" Carlisle asked. "Did he say?"

"Special K."

He hesitated. "How much?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know if he'd ever given it to you before this?"

"I'm not sure."

"What is it, Carlisle?" Esme asked.

"Ketamine," Carlisle answered, revolted. "It has properties of a stimulant, a sedative, a hallucinogen, and an anesthetic. Its side effects are the equivalent of schizophrenia. It sometimes triggers violent paranoia, but without knowing the dosage there's no way to predict what it might do."

Several ferocious growls erupted. Edward's was loudest.

"Bella," Jasper said loudly, "you are safe. No one here will hurt you."

The growls and snarls died away.

"What do you remember after that?"

"I had nightmares. Awful. Bloody. Hopeless."

"What else?"

"I woke up the next morning, and the haze was gone."

Jasper paused. "The haze. You mean when you go numb?"

"Yes."

"What is the haze for?"

"It's for Charlie. It keeps me alive for Charlie. It blocks the pain and makes me forget so I can function."

"The pain from the hole in your chest?"

"Every pain, as long as I can maintain it."

"But it doesn't block the pain in McCoig's office?"

"He makes it hurt when he talks about Edward."

"Why didn't she remember this?" Esme asked.

"She was on so many drugs," Carlisle answered disgustedly. "Some of the sedatives listed in her file are known to cause anterograde amnesia. She likely woke up and assumed she'd been in a constant fugue state for weeks."

"Bella," Jasper began again, "how often did Jimmy come see you?"

"Every session. And he checks on me every morning."

"Bella, has he ever taken your clothes off?"

"He tries. I fight back when I can. He says it's always better when I fight back. That's what the Special K is for. He's experimenting."

I felt a rumbling beside me.

"Did he ever sexually abuse you at any time?"

"…He licks me."

Hisses and growls everywhere.

"Where?"

Silence.

"My face. Some of my burn marks."

"Did he ever do anything else?"

"Yes."

"Oh god, Bella," Alice breathed guiltily.

"What did he do?" Jasper continued.

"He made me kiss his shoes."

There were murmurs…Esme…Alice…

"What else, Bella?" Jasper pressed gently.

"He…he wanted to make me to kiss him other places, but I threw up on him."

"Did he do anything else, Bella? Did he ever rape you?"

"No."

"Are you _sure_?"

"He says it isn't time to…to fuck me yet. He's waiting for Pete to finish with me first. He likes to tell me all the things he's going to do when it's time. He says Pete gave him an idea. He ordered a cattle prod."

Several voices hissed and snarled all at once. The infuriated growl next to me built up to a deafening roar, but the discord ceased without warning.

"When was the last time he came to you?"

"The day I died."

Edward froze beside me. There was a long silence.

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked.

"My last day in the hospital. I couldn't escape. I decided to die."

"Why?" Edward breathed.

"There was no reason to be alive."

"Bella…" Edward said helplessly.

"How?" Jasper asked.

"The hole. I let myself fall in the hole."

"What hole does she keep talking about?" Rosalie asked.

"The same pain Edward had," Alice hissed rapidly. "She must have tried to let it kill her."

"Bella, is that true?" Jasper asked.

"Yes. It was the only way."

It was very quiet for a long moment.

"You said that's the last time you saw Jimmy?"

"I could only hear him. He came to tie me up. He hit me."

"Did he do anything else?"

"He blew something in my face."

"Do you remember what it was?"

"No. I couldn't see anymore."

"You smelled like cocaine when I found you. There were traces in your hair," Edward said, completely repulsed, "but it wasn't listed in your file."

"Did he give you anything else?" Jasper asked.

"Dr. McCoig did. He came to burn me after Jimmy left, then he said he was giving me a new sedative. It was in a tube. I had to swallow it."

"Are you sure that's how it happened?" Carlisle asked dubiously.

"Yes." I would never be able to forget that day. Not anymore.

"That must have been the GHB," Carlisle said after a pause. "We smelled unmetabolized trace amounts in her blood when she scratched herself, but that wasn't in her file, either."

I felt a stirring in my brain, but I couldn't identify it. He and Edward smelled my blood?

"My god. How is she still alive?" Emmett asked, awed.

"I was dying when he came to take me away."

"I don't doubt that," Carlisle replied, "but how did you _survive_?"

"The angel saved me."

Total silence.

"I don't understand," Carlisle said.

"Edward saved me."

Edward caressed my hand. I thought I heard him choking quietly.

"Bella," Jasper said, silencing all the whispers, "you are safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"No one here will hurt you. Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

"We will never let anyone hurt you again, I promise. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"You will remember that you are safe."

"I will."

"Wake up, Bella."

I blinked my eyes several times. Seven vampires sat around me, immobile but for the movement of their mouths. They spoke to me, but I didn't understand any clear words. It was the sound of water rushing over rocks, the sound of the river in the back yard. Faces swam and blurred and came back into focus, and something cold brushed my face, and the room was sideways and tilted, and the gold turned red and blue and black…

And I was caterwauling, squalling, yowling with every ounce of oxygen, convulsing, pushing away from the awful, hot, putrid breath and scalding mouth that tried to roam over me, slicing at it with my nails, kicking at the smug face, hissing and spitting with loathing, revulsion, hate and venom. Tearing, ripping, slashing, clawing, biting, filling my mouth with his warm, pulsing blood—

A light, cold pressure on my forehead washed out the hatred, forced back the boiling lips, wiped out the leering eyes, and smoothed away my jagged, violent compulsion. I grew still under the arctic caresses, and gradually I began to hear something other than my own sobs.

Velvet.

Music.

An angel's voice.

My lullaby.

I quieted myself to listen. My eyes never opened, they were so swollen and crusted over with salt and muck, but I did not need them now. The angel's song was so exquisitely wonderful. The chains around my soul unraveled and fell away. Time had no place here and was not acknowledged. Though all eternity could pass around me, I would never want to hear anything else but this voice of love, healing, and hope.

Something cool and wet passed across my face, wiping away the salt, alleviating the fever and swelling, and still the angel sang to me, keeping all the nightmares away, helping me find a path back to heaven.

At last, at last, I opened my eyes.

My angel stared back at me, his stunning black eyes shining brightly.

Glorious.

It was the only word that would ever fit, and it was still insufficient.

Absolutely glorious.

"Bella?"


	11. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer still applies

**A/N: **Many thanks to everyone who read, added me to their alerts and favorites, and especially those who reviewed. Sorry this update came in a little later than expected, but today was a Family Day.

**Music:** "Renegade" by Styx (although you might know of a better song, and let me know if you do)

* * *

Chapter 11 Revelations

_If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees._

~Kahlil Gibran

"Are you sure you're up for this, Bella?" Alice pouted at me, reaching over slowly to pull her textbook away. "You don't have to bother with my homework. It's not like I haven't been doing these same stupid assignments since the mid nineteen-fifties." Everyone had been moving like sloths around me today. Clearly they were concerned about my weakened state and continued nightmares.

I clutched the physics book in my hand and lifted the corner of my mouth. "Would you stop? I told you, I need to keep this junk in my head if I ever want to get something that resembles a high school diploma." I laughed at her. And it felt so good to laugh at _something_. "I like learning, Alice. I just hate tests." I also hated dwelling on negativity, and I'd done quite enough of that already. Homework was helpful.

I remembered that I had dinner in the oven, and checked my watch.

5:35 P.M.

Friday

April 23

"Now let me finish this problem. I've only got a couple minutes until my pork chops are done."

"Ugh. Pig flesh," Alice said playfully, though with a hint of real disgust. "You humans really should think about what you're putting in your mouths."

"Says the girl who drained a warthog on vacation in Africa ten years ago," I teased. "How much longer until Edward gets home?" Edward and Jasper had gone hunting for the day, hoping to snag a few lions in the mountains east of Forks.

"It won't be long now. He's already on the way." Alice's eyes stayed opaque longer than I thought was strictly necessary for the question I had asked her, but she could just as easily have been searching for Jasper's future or any number of things. "I need to make a phone call."

I sat down to my dinner with a Jane Austen novel, humming to myself. Today I was reading _Persuasion_; it had never been my favorite, but I'd come to appreciate the story of a second chance at lost love more than I had in my younger days. I was just getting to the part where Captain Wentworth wanted to walk Anne home in the rain when Edward rushed in through the rear entrance and appeared at my side. He looked nervous.

"Where's your phone? You need to call Charlie. Now."

Alarmed by his tone, I slipped my hand into my sweater pocket and pulled out the silver phone. I hadn't spoken to Charlie in over three weeks. I'd spent the last three days recuperating from my hypnotherapy session and the subsequent nightmares. I had only started eating again yesterday, and I wanted to be stronger before I called my father. The plan had been to call him after dinner, when Edward was home, and then begin my cognitive behavioral therapy session with Jasper.

Edward and Alice stood very close to me, presumably so they could hear Charlie. I scrolled through the family numbers and hit Send when I got to Charlie's name.

One ring.

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Bella! Oh thank god. Why haven't you called?"

"I've been busy, Charlie," I said in as calm a tone as I could manage. "How are you?"

"Frantic! You can't just disappear on me like that, Bella. I was almost ready to call a private detective!" My eyes went wide, and I looked up at Edward. A P.I. would have gone to St. Vincent's and started asking questions. That meant trouble for Carlisle and for me. "Where are you calling from, anyway?"

"Eastern Washington," I lied easily. It wasn't as though I hadn't expected him to ask that question again.

"Bella, can you be a little more specific?" He was obviously getting tired of being kept in the dark.

"Sorry, Charlie," I said evenly. "I don't want any visitors just now. I'm sorry I haven't called you lately, but I really have been busy with work."

"Tell him you're in school," Edward hissed, looking up at Alice, whose eyes were glazed again.

"I enrolled in school a couple weeks ago," I elaborated. "I probably won't graduate when we thought I would, but it'll be enough to get me into a community college."

"Well, I guess that's good," my father said reluctantly. "I still wish you'd come home, though. You could finish school here instead, with your friends."

I sighed. He didn't know how much I wished I could see him. "Dad, do we have to repeat this conversation every time I call? I'm trying to start over. Why can't you just accept that?"

There was a long pause, and I heard him breathing heavily. "Dad? Are you okay? I'm sorry. I'm not trying to upset you."

"I'm fine, honey. I just miss you so much. I wish you'd at least come for a visit."

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, something I'd picked up from Edward, and tried not to think about why that wasn't possible yet. "I know. I miss you too. Maybe I'll come for a visit in a few months. Right now, though, I just don't want to—"

"Bella, the Cullens are back," Charlie interrupted me. His voice was desperate, almost wildly so. "All of them."

I inhaled sharply and looked up at Edward and Alice. I couldn't understand their expressions. They seemed surprised, but there was something else hidden in their faces.

"Charlie, when you say all of them…"

"I mean Edward, too."

Edward's face was blank stone.

"You've seen Edward around town?" I asked. Edward never left the house except to go hunting.

"No, he's not even in school. Jacob Black came by the station today and told me he's seen Edward camping with some of his family several times in the last month."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"_Jacob_ told you this?"

"Yeah. Edward's supposed to be away at some boarding school, but he's not."

"Dad, none of this makes any sense." I focused on the trivial part first, hoping to throw him off. "Why would Edward's family lie about boarding school?"

"I don't know, Bells. Maybe Edward got kicked out?"

"Dad…" I said warningly.

"You never know, Bella." Strangely, he sounded optimistic.

"And Jacob?" I pressed, trying to piece this whole thing together. "Why does he think it's any of your business? Or his business, for that matter?"

"I don't know. He said I should mention it to you next time you called home." Charlie took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something. "I didn't want to, Bella. That boy messed you up so bad, and I had my mind made up that I wasn't going to say anything. But you won't come home to see me, and I thought, maybe…" Charlie trailed off, desperate and sad.

"You thought I'd come back for Edward. Is that it?" I said quietly.

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess so."

Edward looked at me again. "Hang up," he whispered.

"I'll think about it, Dad. Love you."

"I love you, sweetie."

"Bye."

"But Bella—"

I pressed End and stared up at Edward furiously.

"I want to know what the hell is going on, and I want to know _now_, Edward."

He showed no emotion, but he nodded and began calling everyone by name. Alice took my food away and flitted back. We all sat at the table, with Carlisle at the head, Esme on his right, and Edward on his left. I took my usual family-meeting-seat on Edward's left, and the others all came in and filled the remaining seats. Jasper, who I hadn't seen come in from hunting, took a seat directly across from me, next to Esme. I eyed him suspiciously. He still hunted every week; if Jacob had seen Edward, he'd seen Jasper, too. None of them had ever mentioned this to me.

"Bella, why don't you start," Carlisle suggested calmly.

"Did everyone hear the conversation I just had with my father?" I asked.

"Yes," Edward said next to me as everyone nodded. "They all did."

"Okay then. Would someone care to explain to me why Jacob Black knows everyone's home?"

No one spoke. I was surrounded by statues.

"I thought there weren't any secrets in this family. You've all been keeping something from me. Why?" I was doing my very best not to explode. These people loved me. They wouldn't just keep a secret from me without a reason.

"You weren't well enough to handle it, Bella," Edward answered gently. "Surely you can see that."

"Yes," I said slowly. "But I think now I am."

Edward looked at Jasper and raised an eyebrow. I didn't need to be a mind reader to understand the question. Jasper eyed me speculatively and shrugged very slightly. "We don't have much choice either way, Edward. We're running out of time."

"I want the truth. Please," I said, as calmly as I could manage through my irritation.

"She _is_ good with this kind of thing," Emmett offered from his seat at the other end of the table. "She probably wouldn't even be that scared."

"What kind of thing?" I demanded, my eyes flashing to Emmett. "Is this about more vampire stuff?"

"Not quite, although that's part of it," Carlisle answered, and I swiveled my head to stare at him. He seemed to consider something a moment before going on. "Edward has told me that it was Jacob Black who first told you of our secret. You remember?"

"Yes, of course I do," I replied. "He told me you were the cold ones his great-grandfather made a treaty with."

"Do you remember anything else he told you about his great-grandfather or his tribe?" Carlisle asked.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall the conversation.

_You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves._

"He said his ancestors were descended from wolves," I murmured.

"And so they are," Carlisle said. "Ephraim Black was the last chief of the Quileute tribe. He was also the Alpha of the last wolf pack."

I blinked several times. "You're kidding."

Carlisle sighed. "No, Bella. I'm not."

Well, Emmett had hinted this would be weird and mythical.

"Okay," I replied, surprising even myself by how simple it was to take this information in stride, as if I'd already known, or seen it in a long-forgotten dream. "So Jacob's great-grandpa was a wolf. What's that got to do with us?"

"Everything," Carlisle answered. "We thought Ephraim and his pack were the last ones, but evidently they are not. And their pack is much larger this time. So far we've met six. Seventy years ago there were only three."

"And Jacob…" I said slowly, not wanting to reach the inevitable conclusion.

"Is one of them, yes."

Jacob Black. The gangly kid I'd attempted to flirt with on a beach a hundred years ago. The tall boy who reluctantly showed up at my prom in exchange for money and some kind of engine part to warn me against dating a vampire. The guy whose dad sat on the tribal council, didn't trust the Cullens at all, had a falling out with my dad when Carlisle began working at the hospital, told me to my face to stay away from Edward…

"What do they want?" I asked carefully. "What does this have to do with Charlie?"

"This is a complicated scenario," Carlisle told me. "It involves you in more ways than you can imagine."

"_Me_? What did I do?" I hadn't even left the house since I first came here.

"I fell in love with you," Edward answered. "And that opened up a floodgate."

I laid my head in my hands and groaned. "Please say something that makes sense."

"Jacob violated the treaty by telling you what we are." Carlisle began to speak quickly. "We didn't attack in response, as was our right, because that's not who we want to be. What you need to understand is that you, as a human, are not supposed to know we exist. It is against our laws."

"You have laws?" I asked, feeling incredibly stupid.

"I'll explain that later," Edward promised.

"In any case," Carlisle continued, "you know something you aren't meant to know, and this puts us in an awkward position should the wrong vampires find out. It could get very ugly." From this, I gathered that he was worried about someone making a revelation. "Add to this the appearance of James, Victoria, and Laurent. Of course you remember what happened to James. Victoria evaded us, and Laurent went north to Denali to live among Tanya's family."

Certainly I remembered that, though I rather wished I didn't.

"That story hasn't ended yet," Carlisle continued. "Victoria wants revenge."

"Revenge?" I wondered. "For what?"

"For James," Edward answered. "He was her mate. She wants mine."

I gaped unabashedly at Edward. "She wants to kill me?"

"When I was away," Edward said, staring down at the table, "I tried to track her. I was terrible at it, but I did get close enough to hear her thoughts a few times. She felt killing you would be the perfect form of vengeance against me. She doesn't want me to die; she wants me to suffer."

I twisted in my seat and looked out the window.

Edward spoke firmly. "She'll never touch you."

I took a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath. There was still more to this story. "What else?" I asked.

"Do you remember the local bear attacks from January?" Carlisle asked.

I thought for a moment. "No. I don't remember very much of January. I didn't watch television if I could help it."

"There were several tourists and hikers killed at the resort and in the forests. The media believed these to be the work of a bear, but they were wrong. It was a vampire."

"Victoria?" I whispered. All those people were food because of me.

"Not at first. It was Laurent," Carlisle answered quietly.

"Laurent? But I thought he became a vegetarian." Was anything what I thought it had been?

"We thought so, too," he said. "But when we came back to Washington to take care of you, the trails were unmistakable. Laurent's trail was older, meaning he was here first. We thought perhaps he'd decided not to assist Victoria after all, but that turned out not to be the case. Victoria's trails were more recent. She was trying to get into Forks."

"Trying to?" I repeated. "What does that mean? And what did you mean about Laurent?"

"The pack killed Laurent," Carlisle answered. "Their teeth can penetrate our skin."

I shook my head, unable to imagine the thought of anything strong enough to kill a vampire. It was wrong. Edward was indestructible. But if they'd killed Laurent…

"They also kept Victoria away from Forks," Carlisle continued. "They were keeping watch on most of the Olympic Peninsula until we returned, but after that they could go no farther than the designated neutral territories."

"Why didn't she come looking for me in Seattle?" It would have been so easy for her to kill me there, especially if I had escaped on my own or if I'd been allowed outside even once.

"I don't think she knew you were there. The wolves kept her away from any place that might have a record of where you were. They may have even kept her busy during your transport. She wouldn't have been able to find your scent if you were in an enclosed vehicle." If Carlisle was right, I owed my life to werewolves too, now, not just vampires.

"But what about now, Carlisle? She knows I'm here now, doesn't she?"

"Yes. She started to follow the trail you left when Edward first brought you here, but once the rest of us began to show up, she ran away. She's vastly outnumbered, and she knows James was no match for us. She hasn't made it back through, but we're not taking any chances. We've been taking turns patrolling our lands, but we've found no new traces of her close to home."

Ah, so that explained why there always seemed to be someone away from home: reconnaissance and guard duty. I wondered briefly if this had anything to do with Rosalie's previous irritation or Emmett's "errand." And I'd never thought much about it, but I had no way of knowing what everyone really did when I slept at night.

"If she comes through Quileute territory, we can't track her," Carlisle went on, "and if she crosses the treaty line the wolves can't follow her here."

"That sounds inconvenient," I muttered. It was almost a joke.

"It is. And the boundary issue has caused other problems as well," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"The first time we came across the wolves on neutral territory, I tried to speak to them. They listened at first, and they seemed to believe that we took no part in Victoria's killing. But Edward and Jasper had spent all day with you, and your scent was on our clothes. Jacob recognized it."

Jacob. Of course he would know it right away. He'd been in my house before, and probably still drove Billy up on occasion. "When was this?" I sighed, holding my forehead in my hand, feeling the first strains of a tension headache.

"The night you called Charlie for the first time," Carlisle answered. "We were hunting in the neutral zone when they saw us."

I looked at Alice. "You didn't see that?" I said curiously.

She cast her eyes down in shame. "No. I don't understand why, but I can't see them at all. I wasn't even looking for a while, because you and I were talking about your nightmare." Jasper took her hand quietly.

"And that's why you didn't know Jake had been up to see Charlie today," I surmised.

Alice lifted her free hand to her temple. "Nothing. They're completely blank, even though I've been in their presence a few times now."

I looked at Edward. "Can you…?"

"Yes, I can hear them. That's how I know we have a problem."

"A problem? What do you mean? Is Jake going to tell Charlie I'm here?"

"Jacob is concerned about _why_ we have you here, and why you haven't been to see your father," Edward informed me. "He's afraid we're going to violate the treaty."

"He thinks you're going to kill me? That makes no sense. You'd have done it already." Why was Jake being so irrational?

"No, love," Edward said reluctantly. "He thinks we're going to change you. That's part of the treaty; we can't bite anyone, or there will be war."

My heart was a stone in my chest. He couldn't change me without breaking the agreement. We would have to leave. I might never get my chance to see Charlie. I tried to swallow and push past this thought. "Why hasn't he assumed that you've already changed me, Edward?" I asked around the uncomfortable feeling in my larynx.

"He's not one hundred percent certain that we haven't," came the uneasy reply, "but none of the pack has ever seen you out hunting with the rest of us. Beyond that, your scent is saturated in our clothing by now. They can tell that it's still human, and that it's fairly fresh. Jacob wants to come and check on you, but his Alpha—his pack leader—won't allow him to cross into our territory."

I thought for another minute. "I don't understand. If you're not violating the treaty, and I'm still human, what's the problem? What makes my humanity a bigger issue than Victoria's presence?" It seemed downright ridiculous for Jacob to worry about what _species_ I was when there was a known killer on the loose, probably feeding on someone right now. I hoped his leader had a better sense of perspective.

"Victoria is working alone," Edward answered. "She can be handled, although the land boundaries are making this troublesome. The pack is confident that they'll capture her if she returns. As are we. So long as she doesn't go to our lawgivers and tell them about you, she's a comparatively easy problem for everyone. But if the wolves conclude that we've broken our agreement, they would face seven of us."

A distant, half-remembered sound echoed through my mind: a high-pitched, keening wail resounding through a ballet studio, abruptly silenced. My brain moved away from that violent thought. "Why is Jacob so convinced you're violating the treaty?" I asked Edward, shaking my head in confusion.

"Charlie is depressed, Bella. He's alone, and you haven't called him for the last three weeks. Billy and Jacob are upset about that, particularly since they know you're only a few miles away. The rest of the pack is uncertain, but Jacob seems to think either we've already changed you or we're brainwashing you."

I almost laughed. "Brainwashing me? That's absurd. Why would he think that?"

"He believes we're monsters, Bella, intent on taking you away from your human life." Edward looked so sad, saying that. "Why wouldn't he think it?"

I sighed and pressed my fingers to my temple, where I felt a slight, dull throb. "So what does this mean? Is he planning to do something?"

"We're not sure about the specifics," Carlisle answered. "But his actions today indicate he's trying to force our hand." He paused briefly, his eyes flickering to Edward, then back to me. "You need to make an appearance in Forks whether you're ready or not. And you need to convince Jacob we haven't indoctrinated you into some kind of vampire worship."

I blinked. "You're serious. I have to convince Jacob I'm not your…your pet? Your mind slave?"

"Yes, Bella," Carlisle answered solemnly.

"And I'm supposed to do this _while_ I convince Charlie that I've been living on the other side of the state?" Was I even equipped to do that? How on earth would I be able to conduct _that_ conversation?

Edward and Carlisle exchanged a pained look, and Carlisle spoke compassionately. "I think it would be best to see them separately. And you'll definitely have to see Jacob first, under controlled circumstances, to prove you're human. It might even give you more time to recover before you make an official visit to Forks."

Beside me, Rosalie's chest rumbled with a half-formed growl.

"How am I supposed to do this?" I wondered, staring down at the wood grain in the table. "I don't have the slightest idea what to say to either of them."

"Jacob would do better with the truth," Jasper said, his voice hard but his eyes apologetic. "He's a soldier above all else. He won't fall for convoluted lies."

"I agree," Edward replied hesitantly. "Jacob, at least, will have to know about what happened at St. Vincent's."

"What? No! He'll tell Charlie!" My father had been anguished enough just with my emotional depression. If he knew I'd been physically abused…

"You can't ask her to do that! It's wrong!" Rosalie growled at the same time.

"He can't tell Charlie about your rescue without making him aware of our involvement, and that would violate the treaty," Carlisle offered. "He's just as bound as we are. It would mean war, and no one wants to take casualties."

"Don't be so naïve," Jasper said, irritated. "If he thinks we're going to change Bella anyway, he's probably spoiling for a preemptive strike."

"Jacob's been tugging at his leash for some time," Edward added, "despite his orders."

"We're well equipped to handle a bunch of mutts," Emmett smiled.

Rosalie hissed at him rapidly. "Idiot! We can't see them coming, and they could hurt Esme and Bella!"

"If they come here looking for a fight, they'll have to kill me," Esme growled, surprising me, "because there's no way I'm letting them touch Bella."

"Nobody is going to war over _me_," I interrupted. "It's ludicrous." The universe was playing some kind of sick joke on me. Why else would I, a feeble, ordinary human, be the lynchpin that connected all these myths together? I paused to inhale a few times, deep, slow breaths like Jasper taught me, keeping myself under control. "I'll just have to see Jacob and beg him not to say anything. Maybe if I convince him the guilt would kill Charlie, he'll keep quiet."

"Well, it might not actually kill Charlie," Alice said seriously, "but it won't do wonders for his health or peace of mind if he knows what happened and tries to blame himself for it. Perhaps you can make the wolf see the wisdom in that."

"I have a question," I said, forcing my mind away from the thought of my father's reaction to what had been done to me. "How do I convince Jacob that I'm not making up an elaborate fantasy? Won't he think I'm just telling him what you want him to hear?"

Edward gingerly placed his arm around my shoulders. "We've already prepared for that. I'm afraid you'll have to show him the evidence, Bella. All of it."

"You mean the file and the photographs?" I surmised.

"Yes," Carlisle whispered. "And your scars. And the audio files."

Absolute nothingness took up the space in my central thoughts for a very long minute.

"Audio files?"

"Jasper recorded your hypnosis sessions," Carlisle murmured. "I asked him to."

I stared in horror at Carlisle, then at Jasper, unable to escape the bitter, stinging sensation of betrayal, trapped in it like the tentacles of a jellyfish. "You…you didn't. No. How _could_ you?"

"Bella," Carlisle called, his voice sounding far away, "we made the first tape because we needed more evidence. You couldn't or wouldn't tell us anything about your daily life at St. Vincent's, and we needed to know. We were trying to make sure McCoig wouldn't go back on his word and claim you'd been kidnapped or run away."

"And the second one…?" I gasped.

"…Was for Jacob," Carlisle answered. "By then we had some idea of his thoughts, and we knew this was the direction we'd have to take. I'm sorry, Bella. I was trying to protect you. I didn't want anyone else to come here and hurt you."

I folded my arms on the table and buried my face in them. "I don't have a choice, do I?" These were not cruel sadists who wanted to relive my pain—they wouldn't have done any of this if there weren't a need for it.

"You always have a choice, Bella," Edward said somberly, pulling his arm away. "If you choose not to meet with Jacob, his pack will eventually accept the assumption that you're here against your will or that you've been changed, and we will deal with the consequences. We may have to run."

"That's what should have been done in the first place," Rosalie muttered with the air of one who was repeating something she'd said many times before. Emmett snorted mockingly, as if the idea of running was beneath him.

"If you choose to meet with Jacob," Edward continued as if there had been no interruption, "you might be able to help prevent a war."

I thought of what Carlisle had said about werewolf teeth and casualties, about how they'd met six wolves _so far_. I looked up at Esme's loving face gazing back at me with protective concern, and I realized that I'd already made this decision. I nodded once, and I heard Edward sigh. No words were necessary.

"As for Charlie," Edward went on, "I will not allow Jacob to dictate how and when you conduct your family affairs. You can choose to return to your father when you're ready, if that's what you want, for as long as you want."

I peeked up at Edward. "And where would you be?" It was a question I'd asked before, but I wondered if the answer had changed.

"With you, of course. Or anywhere you want me to be."

I considered it for several minutes while the family waited quietly. I could go back to Charlie, take care of him again, just like I wanted. Cook healthy meals and make his life a little easier. Be the dutiful daughter I was supposed to be. Maybe even go back to school, like Charlie had said, depending on when I felt ready to be around that many people again.

But I'd be away from my sanctuary.

The words filled my mouth and pushed out without another thought. "This is my _home_."

"You wouldn't have to stay with him for the rest of your life, Bella," Edward reminded me, smiling just a little, though I thought I saw something else in his eyes, too brief to identify. "You would have been getting ready to leave for college soon. And we're not exactly far away."

"Charlie would be better off," Alice said hypnotically, caught up in visions. "He'll have more peace if you go back to him for a short time. He'll be able to bear the separation if it's closer to something normal."

Alice saw outcomes, not feelings. "When you say he'll be able to bear it…" I began.

"I mean that I see him smiling instead of drowning in depression," she answered softly.

Charlie smiling was what I had wanted, the only reason I had pretended to be normal all those months. "How long would I have to stay?"

"That depends…" she said cryptically. "There are decisions that haven't been made." Edward's head shot up, and he stared at her in what looked like disbelief. "Really, Bella," Alice said, focusing on me, a strange new expression on her face, "it's up to you."

I turned and fixed on Edward's buttery yellow eyes. "You'll stay with me?"

"I promise."

"Forever?"

He blinked slowly, and his face went blank. I'd asked the wrong question. "For as long as you want me," he answered, his voice betraying a trace of forlornness.

I looked back at my hands. I didn't want to say the words out loud. I shut my eyes and was caught off guard by the tears there.

"Then I guess I'll go visit Charlie for a little while."


	12. Peace Talk

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer still applies. I don't own these characters, and sometimes I quote from SMeyer's books. Don't sue me. I have no money.

**A/N: **Love and appreciation to all you wonderful people who take time to review. Love and kisses to my international readers who make up nearly fifty percent of my readership. And, as always, thanks to Shari (a.k.a. sirah87) for her help and tolerance during the making of this story. Special thanks to adair7 for making my new banner for this story.

**Music:** "How You Remind Me" by Nickelback; "Going Under" by Evanescence

Chapter 12 Peace Talk

_What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it also depends on what kind of a person you are._

~C.S. Lewis

"Don't be afraid, love. I'll be with you every moment."

I checked my watch to be sure we were on schedule.

10:30 P.M.

Sunday

April 25

I was dressed in loose-fitting hiking gear, something I'd never actually worn before despite having worked at an outdoor equipment store, and carrying a green weatherproof backpack on my shoulders. My boots felt uncomfortable and restrictive on my feet. I wished I could take them off. And possibly burn them.

"Are you sure they'll be there?" I said, clutching Edward's neck as we sped through the forest. Jasper and Emmett were flanking us, their eyes always moving over the landscape, searching for dangers. The sky was clear for a change, the moon high overhead, and my human eyes saw nothing but unending trees around me. I didn't see how Edward could be so certain about this. What if the wolves didn't show up?

"I'm positive. The Alpha gave his word," he assured me.

I pressed a soft kiss into Edward's hair and buried my nose there, inhaling his essence as the wind flew around me. The speed was exhilarating, but the aroma of him gave me such peace just then. Edward reached up with his free hand to lightly touch my cheek. "Please don't be worried. We'll keep you safe."

"Do you think they'll attack?" Emmett asked. He didn't sound nearly as nervous as I thought he should.

"With a werewolf, that is always a possibility," Edward answered.

"I should be able to calm them if they try," Jasper growled, "but I'd still rather we had come in greater numbers." I couldn't help but agree, a little. I found myself wishing for Rosalie, so that I could borrow her strength for this the same way she lent it to me during my therapy sessions.

"Jasper, you know that's too aggressive," Edward replied. "I assured the Alpha I would only bring two others along with Bella. So long as we approach them slowly and don't stand too close, we should be alright." He sniffed very deliberately then, and I felt him slow and turn.

"Edward…" I said nervously. Though I didn't think Jacob would hurt me (he was, after all, the one who'd been so worried about me in the first place), I had no idea what to expect from any of the other wolves. If vampires were their only enemy, if the animosity was ingrained into their biological make-up, would they be able to stop themselves from attacking if we made a wrong move? Would they hate me for choosing to live among the cold ones they so despised?

I was about five seconds from finding out. I steeled myself as best I could.

"We're here," Edward announced quietly. We had come to a stop in a small, moonlit clearing—the neutral zone, or part of it, at least. I couldn't make heads or tails of where we were in relation to Forks or home; it would be so easy to get lost here. Just like my dream…I gripped Edward tighter as I took in our surroundings.

At the opposite end of the clearing two hairy, Clydesdale-sized creatures loomed. They sniffed the air in our direction, and the silver-pelted animal sank into a crouch and growled. The taller one, with fur a luxurious midnight black, remained erect as he sniffed, and made an odd barking sound. The silver one retreated two steps and stood tall again. It seemed ridiculous to call these frighteningly beautiful beasts wolves. Clearly they were larger than most grizzly bears and ten times as threatening. The silver one's teeth were like the kitchen knife I'd grabbed during one of my strange flashbacks. I shivered.

Jasper's head twisted, scanning in all directions, and his brothers did the same. I guessed that the two wolves I saw were not the only ones present and prayed this wasn't an ambush. Edward had not told me how far behind us the rest of the family would be waiting in case they were needed. A mile? Two miles? Were they within range of his mental hearing, or were they further away to prevent distraction? Were they fast enough to get here in time if we were attacked?

"Good evening, Sam," Edward said politely, not setting me down yet. "If you would be so kind as to summon Jacob for me, I believe he would like to speak to Bella."

A synapse fired in my brain.

_Sam._

I remembered lying on the forest floor, unable to raise my face up from the rain puddle pooling around my head. Men were calling my name. An animal came, sniffing the ground, snuffling around my head. Then it was gone, and a giant, copper-skinned, black-haired man was lifting me from the mud.

"Sam Uley?" I cried in shock. I felt two pairs of golden eyes stare up at me from my sides, and Edward's breathing stopped.

The black wolf froze for a brief second, his striking gaze focused entirely on me, then twisted his head clockwise and narrowed his eyes as if trying to concentrate on something in particular. Edward winced as though in pain and squeezed my hands slightly.

"He's the one who found me, Edward! When I got lost in the woods, he's the one who picked me up and took me back to Charlie." Edward nodded at him once. I looked at the black wolf again, and was not so afraid. "Sam?"

Slowly, deliberately, the black wolf dipped and raised his head. Beside him, the aggressive silver wolf huffed and sat back on its haunches.

"Bella?" called a scratchy voice from the trees behind Sam.

I looked in the appropriate direction, and a tall, well-muscled, half-clothed man with cropped black hair emerged from the shadows and walked halfway across the clearing, staring at me appraisingly, sniffing in my direction. It took me a long ten seconds to recognize him.

"Jacob? Is that _you_?"

He smiled at me strangely before his expression turned sour. "Let her go, bloodsucker. She's not your toy."

Something white flashed in my brain when he said the last word, and I jerked my head involuntarily. Below me, Edward began to growl.

"Stop it," I said, "both of you. Mind your manners."

Jacob looked up at me as if I had lost my mind all over again.

"Edward, let me down, please," I commanded.

Reluctantly, Edward released me and helped me gain my feet. He positioned himself defensively, slightly in front of me and to the right, as though expecting an attack. Emmett maintained an alert posture on our right flank, and Jasper did the same on my left.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "I won't hurt her, leeches."

"Not intentionally, mongrel," Edward murmured, a slight edge to his voice.

At the same time Emmett growled, "Not with us here, you won't." I could just feel Jasper echo the sentiment, though he kept silent.

"I understand you wanted to see me?" I said loudly, trying to get control over the situation. The irony of attempting such a thing was not lost on me.

"I see you're still human," Jacob said judgmentally, almost mockingly.

"I hear you're not," I fired back, not liking his tone one bit. This seemed to bother him.

"I'm human, Bella," he responded, troubled. "I'm just something else, too."

"If you say so." With a trembling hand, I reached up and lightly touched Edward's spine for a few moments, wishing for his courage. I didn't know what to do next.

"Say what you have to say, Jacob," Edward said with forced calm.

"Why haven't you been to see Charlie?" Jacob asked, trying to look only at me. "He thinks you're out in Spokane or something. Won't these parasites let you visit?"

"I've been a complete wreck, Jacob," I answered, meeting his eyes. "They're helping me get better so I'm well enough to see Charlie."

"Get better," he scoffed. "That's what the mental hospital was for. The doctor said you're fine."

I stiffened at his casual dismissal of what had been a life of pure torture, shutting my eyes and inhaling sharply. Edward reached up with one hand to stroke my face. "You don't have to be afraid, Bella. You're safe."

"What the…? Bella, what the hell's going on?" Jacob sounded pissed. "Why didn't you come home when you were released from the hospital?"

I opened my eyes and glared at Jacob. "I wasn't released, Jacob; I _escaped_. Dr. McCoig and his errand boy Jimmy were torturing me."

Jacob stared at me incredulously. "Torturing you? Bella…is that what these bloodsuckers told you? Are they screwing around with your mind? It's all a pack of lies, Bella. Come with me, and I'll take you _home_."

Home?

What did this boy, who'd lived his whole life sheltered by his tribe, who'd never had to move over to make room for someone else, who'd never been anything but wanted, protected, and cared for exactly where he was, know about _my home_? I'd been brutalized over and over again, broken, shredded, branded, poisoned, emotionally mutilated, used as a lab rat and a dog bone and a punching bag and God knew what else, and he dared to call it a _lie_?

"A pack of lies, is it?" I hissed furiously, stepping around Edward so Jacob would see me entirely. "Is this a pack of lies, Jacob?" I tossed my backpack to my feet and ripped open my shirt, exposing all the skin that wasn't covered by my bra, earning a series of surprised canine whines. Though I'd tried to avoid the mirror as much as possible, I knew the bleach-white skin on my chest was peppered with circular pink and white spots. Jacob's eyes popped open wide at first, then narrowed and roved over me as he focused on the marks. "Are these burns a pack of lies? They're all over my body! Or how about these?" I shrugged out of my shirt, threw it to the ground, and held out my arms in front of me, the scarred, slightly bulging veins facing up. I heard three shocked gasps behind me. "You see these? Do they look like lies to you?" In the empty space behind me, I could feel Edward half extending his arms toward me, as if wishing to cover me, but he did not touch my shaking body.

Jacob was quiet for a moment, as if coming to terms with what he was seeing. Edward stilled, reacting to something in Jacob's thoughts.

"Did that bloodsucker doctor do this to you, Bella? I swear I'll kill him myself!"

Edward, Emmett, and Jasper snarled viciously. At the edge of the clearing, the two wolves crouched low but did not advance, and a chorus of low, savage growls echoed around me.

"No!" I roared as loud as my weak, human voice allowed, reaching down for my backpack. "You want your proof, Jacob Black? Have a look at this!" I chunked the bag at him as hard as I could, watching as it landed a few feet from where he stood. As he bent to pick it up, I grabbed my shirt and pulled it back on before my teeth started rattling from the cool night air. Edward pulled me behind him again, and I realized by the look in his eyes that I'd stepped over an invisible line.

"What is this?" Jacob asked, sounding curious and suspicious as the pulled the file folders and the small Sony Discman from my pack. Thankfully the CD player looked unharmed. He retreated back to Sam's side and opened the first folder, thick with paper. Sam and Jacob peered down at the file together, examining it in the moonlight.

"That one is a copy of Dr. McCoig's private research file on me," I said miserably, my fury fading away. "I've got the original locked up to use as evidence against him if I ever need it." I hadn't wanted to really read my file, but I did look it over enough to confirm the doctor's hand in the blue fountain ink I remembered. His handwriting matched the signature on my release papers, and the hospital letterhead was the same.

Jacob looked over the paperwork, pushing Sam's nose away from a page, stopping to read some paragraphs in Peter McCoig's rough scrawl. "He gave you all these drugs?"

"Yes," I moaned painfully, grasping Edward's arm for support.

"Morphine, I know of," Jacob stated. "What are the others?"

"Sedatives," Edward answered for me, "antipsychotics, hallucinogens, date rape drugs, everything he could think of to give her. And that doesn't include the street drugs her sadistic orderly started dosing her with unbeknownst to the doctor. It took almost four days to get it all out of her bloodstream. She was near death when I found her."

"Date rape drugs?" Jacob said, sounding for a moment like the kid I remembered from the year before. "Bella, did they…?"

I looked away nervously. "Please don't ask me. I wake up crying every day. All I can tell you is that I'm lucky I got out when I did. It was about to get much worse."

Jacob didn't respond to that; he looked back down at the paperwork, then opened the second file. "What are these pictures of?" He peered at the photos more closely. I hadn't looked at those at all—I didn't need to or want to in any way.

"There's a light in the bag," Edward grumbled. Jacob heard him across the distance and sifted through the bag until he pulled out the small Mag-lite flashlight. I saw the yellow-white glow, and a few seconds later I heard him gasp. Sam's hair stood up on his back, and a ring of eerie, lamenting, howls filled the air, low-pitched and mournful. I felt Jasper and Emmett close in around me as we waited for the noise to die down.

"Bella, what happened to you?" Jacob asked, no longer disbelieving but afraid.

"Jimmy did most of that, I think," I said, trying to keep my hold on calm. "The bruises, anyway. Dr. McCoig was the one with the stun gun. That's what the burn marks are from." I felt the silent tears slip down my cheeks, and I wiped at them with the sleeve of my shirt. Edward shifted his position and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into his shoulder gratefully.

"Bella…" Jacob said, repulsed and stupefied.

I couldn't speak anymore, so I shook my head in Edward's chest. He understood and spoke for me.

"The CD is an audio recording of two hypnotherapy sessions she had with us." His voice was pained and quietly incensed. "We were trying to figure out what happened to her; she couldn't remember it on her own because of the drugs. You can listen if you want, but believe me, you will wish you never had."

"My god," Jacob's whisper echoed across the empty space.

I stopped to take a deep, shaky breath and turned my head to face him. "I was going to let myself die. It was too much."

Jacob looked up and pointed an accusing finger at Edward. "This is his fault! You were in that hell because he left you!" Edward flinched, but did not drop his gaze. He agreed with Jacob.

Jacob was so furious, he began to shake with rage; his skin seemed to be changing color, and he looked…nauseous? Edward pushed me entirely behind him as he bared his teeth, his body tensing.

"No, Jacob," I moaned, craning my neck around Edward's form. "You've got it all wrong. Edward thought I'd be safer if he left me here. He was trying to protect me."

Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise and ceased quivering.

"He didn't know I would go crazy," I continued breathlessly. "No one did. It's not his fault my doctor did this to me. The only reason I'm still alive and standing here right now is because Edward got me out in time. He _saved_ me."

"If Charlie knew about this…" Jacob hissed.

"Jake, please!" I croaked desperately. "You can't tell Charlie or anyone else who might let it slip to him." It was absolutely crucial that I make Jacob understand this any way I could. "He doesn't know what those men did, and you know it would kill him if he found out he'd sent me straight into the arms of the devil."

Edward inclined his head ever so slightly and remained very still.

"Then come home!" Jacob shouted edging closer to us again. "Leave your bloodsucking demons and come home."

"It's too soon, Jacob!" I wailed, a pleading sound coloring my voice. "I know Charlie needs me, and I really am planning to go back to see him. But I don't know if I can do it yet. I close my eyes at night and I'm in that hospital trying to keep Jimmy off me. I wake up screaming and trying to kill anything that touches me. If Charlie saw me like that, it'd scare him half to death. I'm not ready."

"_They_ say you're not ready," he growled, sneering at my bodyguards. "You look ready to me. You've got plenty of fight in you."

_You don't have any fight in you today, little one. That's too bad._

I shrank back from the huge male across the field, curling into a ball on the damp ground.

"J-J-Jimmy…" I stuttered fearfully, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I rocked back and forth, back and forth, forehead touching the mattress, or was it the grass? I peered up quickly to search for him.

The tall blond man peered worriedly at me a moment…Jasper? "She's having another one," he breathed, slipping into a rapid hiss I couldn't make sense of. I hid my face again from the angry, growling man, protecting my eyes.

_Just hit me and leave, just hit me and leave, please god, just hit me and leave…_

"Damn it." Edward turned his back on the large man, lifted me easily, and held me tight, shielding me with his stone body. "Bella," he whispered, "don't be afraid. You're perfectly safe. Breathe."

"What? What's wrong with her?" the sandpapery boy voice asked sharply.

"You said something that triggered a memory," Edward said over his shoulder in his gentle, threatening voice. The subtle edge would be lost on anyone who didn't know him as well as I did. "She still hasn't gained complete control over her reactions."

I kept my face covered and sobbed into my shivering hands, hoping Jimmy wouldn't feel like issuing anything worse than a black eye tonight, hoping Edward would keep him away.

"You mean like a flashback?" the voice said curiously.

Edward nodded once. "Bella, my love," he murmured softly, combing his fingers through my hair as his sweet, soothing breath washed over me, "you are safe with me. Jimmy is not here. He will never hurt you again. Calm down." I inhaled deeply, and my pulse began to return to something close to a normal rhythm in response.

"How often does she get like this?" the scratchy voice wanted to know. He sounded closer.

"Every day," Edward answered. I felt him turn to face the opposite end of the field again, where the voice was coming from, and I clutched at his shirt collar. "She's been improving with therapy sessions, but this is not something we can predict. Without the proper care, she'll only get worse."

An animal whimpered somewhere to our left; it sounded almost sympathetic as it moved. Edward shifted slightly and stopped stroking my hair.

"Bella?" I thought I recognized the voice again, familiar but full of fear now, maybe regret. I peeked around Edward's arm and scanned the scene for threats. Jimmy wasn't there. I saw my vampires immediately around me, one slowly advancing male at least twenty yards away, and two motionless canines in the distance. The large, dark man's posture was strange as he approached us. Cautious, like he thought we might bolt.

Edward did not take his eyes off the man. He held me securely, his muscles coiled and ready. Emmett and Jasper were rigid beside us. "Don't come any closer, mutt," Emmett growled. "You've scared her enough."

The man stopped in his tracks, and I examined him carefully. "Jake?" I said, still trembling.

"Right here, Bella." He stared at me, all pity and remorse and just…sad. Childlike. Like the little boy I vaguely remembered from a long-ago summer, just after his mother died. Charlie had asked me to be nice to him, to think about how I'd feel if I lost someone I loved that much.

And I remembered where I was, and why I was here.

"Oh god, Jake, I'm so sorry," I cried. "I'm trying to get better, I swear. I'm not going to abandon Charlie, but I can't let him see me like this."

"Yeah," he said, looking back down at the backpack in his hands. "Here, you keep this. I don't want it." He tossed the backpack to us, placed a hand across his face, and backed away as if to go.

"Wait!" I cried, suddenly panicked. I couldn't keep a handle on my emotions anymore; they were flying around like debris in a desert sandstorm. But I had to say one last thing.

"What is it, Bella?" Jacob said, still not looking at us, his voice muffled behind his hand.

"Thank you, Jacob."

He lowered his hand and looked up at me, puzzled. "For what?"

"For stopping Laurent and Victoria," I answered shakily, trying to breathe. "I owe you my life and Charlie's life. Thank you, all of you."

"Sure, sure. Your bloodsu—Edward said something about that. Maybe one day you'll explain it to me."

"I will, Jacob," I promised between gasps, willing my hands to stop trembling and failing miserably. "Thank you."

And with that he strode silently into the trees. Sam and the silver wolf stood watchfully a few minutes longer, looking around the edges of the clearing, and then they too disappeared, leaving us untouched in the fading moonlight.


	13. Empathy reedited

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer still applies.

**A/N: **This chapter was not originally planned as part of this story. It has not gone through nearly as many revisions and rewrites as the other chapters, which were all written way back in November. I've done my best to make sure this doesn't interfere with the story arc I have planned, and I hope the writing quality is up to par.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or added me to their alerts/favorites. Very special thanks to **sirah87**, without whom I would have surely run screaming to the hills before being able to finish this chapter.

**Music: **"My Immortal" by Evanescence, "I Know" by Jude

**A/N 2:** Edited to provide more clues to clarify the conversation.

* * *

Chapter 13 Empathy

_Sad are only those who understand._

~Arab Proverb

One thing about all the white on white décor: it made the sunlight bounce around the family room, so that even though we were near the north wall, the lee of the house so to speak, everyone's skin still glowed faintly. Everyone's but mine. Fortunately "everyone" was not present, a courtesy so that I might not be so distracted.

"Sorry to bother you at work, Dad. I just got off work myself and I have class to attend tonight, so I wanted to call you while I had a chance."

Of course I didn't have much time to recover from my bizarre conversation with the wolves before I had more work to do. That meant therapy, which I participated in willingly despite the painful, visceral memories, the little discoveries like tiny pockets of horror. And at the moment, "work" also meant this phone call.

"Don't worry about it, honey," my father said, his voice thick with relief. "I'm just glad to hear from you. You hung up so fast the other day."

I didn't let myself think of that, instead delivering the story he needed to hear. "Yeah, sorry. The person I borrow this phone from was in a rush, and I had to get off in a hurry." It wasn't precisely true, but it wasn't a lie, either.

"Oh, right." Charlie paused for one heartbeat, one of his old tells. "Who loans you this phone, anyway? Your roommate?"

"A neighbor," I answered, scowling slightly. Once again, Charlie was fishing, and he had no talent for subtlety. "She's a very nice lady."

"Do you think she'd mind if I called you at this number?" Charlie asked, finally getting to the point.

And I didn't say what I wanted to say: _call me any time._ I could have if I wanted to—Carlisle had made it very clear that this phone was to be used at my discretion—but I opted not to. For one thing, I knew Charlie would take me up on that offer quite literally, and I'd have four hundred voice mails clamoring for attention as he systematically determined that no one ever answered the phone at any time of day or night. And for another, I needed contact with him to be on my terms for the moment. I had too many conflicting feelings about everything I'd learned—and was still learning—and I needed to be able to not worry about dealing with him for a few days at a time if that's what it took.

"That's probably not a good idea, Dad. She's doing me a huge favor as it is. I don't want to overstep my boundaries or inconvenience her." Just one final push to put the issue to rest. "She might not let me use her phone anymore."

"Oh," Charlie replied, disappointed. His voice picked back up immediately, though, with almost boyish anticipation. "So have you thought any more about coming home?"

I kept my gaze on the piano off to my left, not looking down at Edward, who was kneeling on the floor in front of me. I did apply more pressure to his hand, however, just enough to let him know I wasn't caving in, that I could be strong like him. "I'm still thinking about it," I told my father, "but I'm not sure. I don't know when I'll be able to take time off work anyway, and I have tests to study for, and plane tickets aren't cheap—"

Charlie interrupted my lie before it could start to sound like one. "I could always pay for—"

"No, Charlie," I stopped him, immediately aware of the sacrifice he was willing to make, the unnecessary financial hardship he'd put himself through. "I don't want your money; you forget I know what kind of salary you earn." Just to head him off at the pass, I quickly, thoughtlessly added, "And before you ask, no, you can't come visit."

He stayed very quiet, and I realized too late that I'd hurt his feelings, something I had done excessively already and had no wish to do again. It seemed better to end the call now before I shoved my foot any further in my mouth—I could call back later if Alice said I needed to. "Look, I should go. I have some things to do around the house before I leave for school," I invented. The lying came so easily now. And I hated myself for it.

"Wait, Bells," he said quickly, calling me by my baby name.

"Yeah, Charlie?" My voice stayed even, almost as though someone else were speaking for me, giving Charlie the cool, collected daughter so I could quietly despise myself in private.

"I just…" he began, unsure. I wondered where the conversation was going. "…call your mom."

Renee.

Abruptly, I was mentally transported through time and space to my little Forks bedroom, eight days after life as I knew it was destroyed.

_Charlie and Renee were outside my door, talking. I heard my mother's frantic voice._

"_I don't know why you think I can deal with her any better than you can, Charlie. I love her, but do I look qualified to handle something like this?"_

"_You're her mother, Renee. Broken hearts are supposed to be your department. I don't know what else to do for her."_

"_Charlie, broken hearts are one thing, but this is something else entirely. She won't even speak to me. When has Bella ever not spoken to _me_?"_

_Then I heard the words "change" and "distractions" and "airline ticket" and "Florida" and "mental facility." There was grumbling, and Edward's name assaulting my senses, and "that Cullen bastard." And then Renee was in my room with empty luggage, smiling at me sweetly, jabbering at a hundred miles an hour about the sunshine and the beach and her husband and having my own bathroom as she started packing my things in the ominous black suitcase, ready to take me away from my home, my father, my last lingering purpose, my magic, my lifeline. That was when the screaming began._

"No," I said firmly, back in the present, refusing my father's request. "I'm not ready to talk to her yet."

"Bella," he protested, "you need to call—"

"Don't push me, Charlie," I snapped. "I said no." When he didn't answer, I used my anger to complete my task. "And another thing: if you even think about sending a private detective to find me, I'm never going back. That's a violation of my privacy, and you know it."

It was also the catalyst for another of Alice's visions: federal agents coming to Forks to arrest Carlisle on kidnapping charges. We'd be able to run before they got here, but we wouldn't be able to return, and that would ruin everything I'd worked for. That was why I was calling my dad now, in the daytime, before he had a chance to finalize his decision.

"I promise," Charlie vowed immediately. "No P.I. I'll leave you alone. It's just…I don't understand, Bella."

I sighed, wishing my heart wouldn't clench so, that there was some way to do this without hurting him. "I just have to figure some things out first, Dad. I can't do that if I'm worried about a stranger stalking me or Renee going overboard like she always does. Does that make sense?"

"I guess…" he muttered, defeated.

"I'll try to call you again later this week, okay?" I offered. "I won't go so long between phone calls again." Reassuring him of continued contact was the most I could do for him, for now.

"Thanks," he said in a small voice that didn't sound like my strong, powerful father at all. "I'll call your mom and let her know you're okay."

God, what was I _doing_ to him?

"Bye, Charlie."

"Bye, Bells."

I pressed end and shut my eyes, taking in a lungful of air and holding it. I used my fingers to tap a slow ten-count in tandem with my pulse.

One…

I love you, Charlie.

Two…

I'm so sorry I hurt you.

Three…

I know you won't understand this right now, maybe never.

Four…

But this is the only way I know to be able to see you again.

Five…

I'm doing this to protect you.

Six…

The truth is too painful for you.

Seven…

I hope you can forgive me.

Eight…

Don't give up on me.

Nine…

I love you, Daddy.

Ten.

Exhale.

I opened my eyes and looked down at Edward's distraught face, then over at Jasper sitting in a nearby armchair, his features carefully neutral. "How was that?" I asked, a little concerned myself. Perhaps I'd been too aggressive.

"You did just fine," Jasper assured me. "You didn't even need my help." If I had to guess, I'd say he seemed mildly surprised. But that was one of my goals: being able to talk to my father without needing Jasper's emotional assistance. If I couldn't do that without freaking out, I wouldn't be able to visit him.

"Yeah, well, Charlie's not that scary," I joked ineffectually. I looked down at Edward's strange expression and smiled, hoping to cheer him a little, something to make him not look at me that way, like I was a stained glass window and he had carelessly thrown a rock in my general direction. "We faced far worse in the neutral zone."

"Yes, you did," he said softly. "You were amazing."

Recalling my very public meltdown, I waved off his praise and glanced at my phone. "So are you sure we don't have to worry if Charlie calls this number?" I asked, holding up the device. "I told you he has caller ID at the station."

"It's not a problem," Edward promised. "He can call it or trace it, but he won't get anything, not even a voicemail greeting." Secretly, I hoped my father would call it anyway, just once.

With that settled, I looked away at the piano again, letting my mind wander back to my poor father. How on earth would I ever make up for these months away from him? I could never explain any of this to him even if I wanted to, and I would never get this time back. I wondered what he must think of me, if he thought I didn't love him, or if he could still feel it across the distance. Remembering my own experience with losing someone I loved, I couldn't be sure how well Charlie was dealing with this. All I could hope for was that my phone calls would be enough to sustain us both until I was ready for more. And I wondered if this was anything even remotely like what Edward had felt when he'd left me, when he'd lied and said he didn't want me in his life.

"Bella," Edward said suddenly from below me, "why don't you want to talk to Renee?"

Good lord, not _this_. There was only so much I could handle today, and this potentially explosive topic was not on my agenda. "I'm not ready," I responded, hoping the conviction in my tone was enough to silence him on the matter.

Thankfully, Edward said no more, and he and Jasper remained quiet, allowing me time to simply sit and be. I stared at the ebony and ivory keys on Edward's piano—for some reason, he'd left it open. I considered the sounds, the way the sharps and flats accentuated everything else, making a piece of music more beautiful, more bearable, each note tempering every other, unless they were played incorrectly, turning the whole song into a sour dirge, a scrambled mess.

I thought of Jacob.

"Edward," I whispered, "if I ask you a question about Jacob, will you tell me the truth?"

"Yes," he replied immediately. Though his gaze was…_worshipful_?...I could still detect a hint of trepidation. He didn't like talking about this, but I knew he would, for me.

"Well," I said slowly, picturing our night in the clearing, "at one point he seemed to be…turning green, I think. And shaking like a leaf. And you pushed me behind you…"

"Did I hurt you?" Edward asked, clearly upset.

"No, I'm fine," I said instantly. He'd been extraordinarily delicate with me ever since I woke up from my terrible, murderous, shrieking dream, when he held me tenderly and sang me back to a state of love and peace. "It's just that…" I closed my eyes, trying to remember the scene, the way Edward's teeth flashed, his muscles suddenly larger somehow. "What was he going to do?"

So gently I barely felt it, Edward stroked my fingers with his thumb. "He was going to transform and attack us," he murmured. "He was furious and couldn't control himself any longer."

Abruptly, I opened my eyes and looked at Edward, evaluating him. He would have read Jacob's mind. He would have known exactly what everyone was thinking. And he would say anything to spare me any kind of pain. And I wondered if I didn't have my initial assumption backwards after all, if the rest of the pack was the lesser concern while Jacob's inborn malevolence was greater than whatever he felt about me, if he really was so repulsed with the life I'd chosen. "You mean he was going to attack _me_," I deduced.

Edward raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly. "No, he wanted me, but you were in my arms, and you would have died all the same." He paused, his eyes glazing as if remembering something. "Sam Uley's mate seems to have suffered a similar fate. She was badly disfigured in his memory. It was an accident, I believe. He loves her very much, and as far as I can gather she loves him still, but that was not enough to protect her from his lapse of control."

I wondered about this faraway woman, whoever she was, who'd suffered physical injury at the hands of her beloved. It must have been terrifying for her, even earth shattering. But she was still with him. They still had a life together.

"Bella," Jasper commented, startling me, "we told you werewolves—particularly the young—are dangerous and unstable. I know you were hoping Jacob would be different, but he's not. For all his worry and concern for you, he would have killed you. He would have been remorseful afterward, I'm sure, but that wouldn't make you any less dead."

I looked at both men, wondering at this. "Wouldn't you have been able to change me?" Perhaps Jasper would not have been able to do it, but surely Edward or even Emmett would have tried. Were there limits to what the vampire transformation could repair? Would Edward have been able to resist draining my life away?

"That would have been hard to do while fighting off a werewolf," Edward pointed out. "Not to mention the rest of his pack."

I sighed, knowing he was right and hating it. Even with three vampires at my side, we'd been outnumbered. Apparently the ranks of the pack had been swelling, and no matter how fast the rest of the family could run, they wouldn't have been able to reach us before I was torn to pieces by a wolf who was only twenty or thirty yards away. This led me to another question. "So why didn't he attack?"

"You stopped him," Edward told me.

_Me?_

I stared at Edward in amazement as he smiled and explained. "You surprised him when you told him the truth—that I'd left you for your sake, not mine. It was enough of a shock to stop him long enough for Jasper to influence him a little. It wasn't a noticeable difference, but it allowed him to continue paying attention to you. So long as you kept talking, his focus was on you, not on exacting revenge, and though he wasn't exactly _calm_, eventually he regained control of himself. You saved us, Bella."

That had to be an exaggeration—I wasn't calm, either, and Edward was always the one with the soothing voice, not me. But it had seemed to happen that way, almost.

"Don't think that means he isn't still potentially lethal," Jasper admonished me, grim and severe. "They all are, and if you ever have to deal with them again, you must remember to be careful."

Edward snorted, as if that were completely preposterous. "There's no need for you to see them again, Bella. Once was enough. I won't subject you to that again."

I said no more, returning my gaze to the piano. Jacob, the only son of my father's best friend, would have killed me, would have killed Edward and incited a war, all because of his temper, because he wanted someone to blame for my misfortune, and the most convenient target happened to be right in front of him. Maybe Jasper was right—maybe he was too unstable. But maybe that wasn't his fault. He was only sixteen, after all, and he clearly had not known what was wrong with me until that moment. I'd dropped a major bombshell; it was a lot for anyone to take in. I settled a hand into Edward's hair, still thinking. Edward had said I'd saved us, but it seemed like more of a combined effort to me. Jasper would have been able to calm Jacob without me, but from what I'd been told, the wolves were aware of this, and it would have undermined our purpose. If Jasper had not been there, would I still have been able to pacify Jacob? Thinking of Sam's mate, I decided the answer was more than likely _no._

Jasper flitted quietly away, his movement leaving a small breeze that blew a few strands of my hair around my face. From below, Edward breathed a timid question. "Bella? Are you angry with me?"

I almost smiled at such an absurdity. "No." I didn't look at him, though. It was enough that he sounded like a small boy, worried that he would be reprimanded harshly for a minor transgression. I didn't trust myself to not break down if I saw his corresponding heartbroken face.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice almost trembling. "I should never have taken you to the wolves. It was too dangerous, it was painful, and it was unfair to burden you with everyone else's well-being. I was stupid. Please, Bella, forgive me."

"There's no need," I said calmly, working to keep my voice even, my eyes focused on the piano keys, imagining Edward's fingers flying over them. He rarely sang while he played, and I always thought the combination would be too beautiful, that my heart would explode from anything that divine.

"But you had to tell them everything," Edward murmured sorrowfully. "It was wrong to ask you to do that."

I thought about this, trying to see it objectively. Perhaps it was too much to ask of one person. But it had to be done, and the world was full of people who took on what seemed like too much and succeeded. "You gave me a choice, Edward," I said sensibly. "I chose to protect my family the best way I knew how." I was strong enough to answer the call when it came, and that was something to be proud of, a personal victory from which to draw new hope.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he repeated, "for everything."

I kept quiet, feeling the absolute penitence radiate from his every cell. Touching, endearing, but completely unnecessary. Why apologize for giving me the chance to defend the people who'd defended me?

"Tell me what to do," he pleaded in a whisper. "Tell me how to make this right."

"There's nothing wrong," I replied softly, thinking of Esme now, how fierce she sounded at the very mention of anyone coming here to hurt me, how she looked at me before I left with Edward and his…_our_ brothers. I remembered Esme's warm, golden-chimed voice. _Bella? Please be careful. I want you to come back._ For her, I would gladly face the wolves again, a hundred times over.

I felt a gentle pressure on my legs, and I realized that Edward was carefully laying his head in my lap, moving slowly so as not to frighten me, willing to stop if it made me uncomfortable. Which was very nearly the case. "Please," he murmured. I looked down at him, miserable and contrite, a very slight tremor emanating from his body as he stared blankly at the same wall I'd been gazing toward.

My heart jumped, and I sighed, watching as my poor Edward closed his eyes, his face a wealth of emotions, sorrow and loss being the dominant features. He opened his eyes again, still looking away, his hand still gingerly holding mine, his soft hair curled around my other fingers, and I could have sworn he looked ready—willing, even—to be rejected and punished, as though such a thing was right and just, and he was simply relishing his last few moments before the pain would begin.

And I could not allow that. Ever.

"Oh, Edward," I breathed, pulling my fingers over his scalp and through his hair, willing him to feel my devotion and care. "Don't be sad. I'm right here. I'll always be here for you. Forever."

Quietly, Edward began his choking sobs, as though I'd gouged his heart out.

"Don't cry," I begged, trying to stave off my own tears with deep, faltering breaths as I disentangled my hands and leaned forward, blanketing him with my body, my self, my love, the only things I had to give. "Please don't cry, Edward."

But we both wept in our own ways, tearful and tearless. This was the closest contact we'd had, the most I had been able to allow. Aside from our night with the wolves, Edward only held me in the mornings when I woke up with violent screams and slashing claws, or when I felt safe and relaxed enough to ask him to put an arm around me. I couldn't let him kiss me, and sometimes I was petrified, and it often seemed like he was too. There was nothing I could do now to forget that awful beast who'd taken so much away from us, who had robbed us of our joy and comfort, who brought Edward to his knees every day because at times that was the only way I could be unafraid. And I sobbed for my broken lover who was so frightened of what I'd suffered, and I grieved for myself and the inescapable past, and I cried for my loving family and the patience with which they'd endured my darkness and rage and bitterness and madness, and I sorrowed for all the anguish and anxiety they must have borne all this time, protecting me from danger on all sides and having to hide it. And I gasped because I didn't know what else I could do to ease the burden I'd become, or how to be close to anyone again, or how to close my eyes at night and not see the hospital, not smell the hot breath and sweat, not hear the rattle of keys and the click of the deadbolt. And I mourned because all these awful things had come between us, and though Edward's cool body was warming under my touch, he'd never been more distant since he first returned to me. I wept for us because I heard him doing the same, and because I didn't know what else to do, or how, or if anything would work, or what would happen if I failed. I only knew I wanted to save Edward as he had saved me.

Eventually my tears slowed and stopped, and I placed a light, experimental kiss on Edward's spine. It felt nice. Like taking something back that I'd lost. I sat up again and dried my eyes and cheeks. "Edward," I croaked, "look at me."

He lifted himself slowly, his eyes roving over me, clearly pained by what he saw. His fingers came up, but stopped within two inches of actually making contact. The fear and longing were plain upon his features, the quiet desperation.

So I smiled.

And it was just like the first time, when Edward and I had kneeled together in our room and promised we would never want to leave each other. He didn't kiss me now, but at my permissive nod, his fingers grazed my face, wispy butterfly wings upon my skin, cautious and reverent and adoring. My eyelids fluttered closed, and for just a moment I forgot everything else and leaned into his palm, loving the feel of his cool skin on my warm face, the sweet scent that eased my aching heart. For three…five…ten seconds, I was a whole woman once more. Just Bella.

"Tell you what," I suggested, peeking at him, wondering at the awe in his eyes. "You protect me from bad people, and I'll protect you from werewolves, and maybe we'll meet somewhere in the middle."

"How do we do that?" he asked softly, perplexed but not unwilling, the sound of velvet love.

"With our voices," I heard myself say, unsure exactly what I meant or how it would work, but determined to try. I lifted my own hand to touch Edward's face as he did mine, to smooth away the distress etched in his forehead. "I can hear yours, and you can hear mine. Maybe that can be enough to make us both feel safe so we can get well together."

From the doorway, we heard Jasper's voice. "I think we can help you with that."

Edward and I looked up.

Our family.

I drew my arms around Edward protectively, slowly pulling his face to my shoulder and curling my toes in the rug, staring back at the looks of amazement and sadness and absolute _remorse_ that greeted me from the topaz eyes of the people I loved. "Will it hurt?" I asked, stroking Edward's hair reassuringly.

Jasper's eyes, gold-rimmed and warmer than I ever remembered, swept over us pityingly.

"Yes."


	14. A Family Affair

Chapter 14 A Family Affair

_A family is a little kingdom, torn with factions and exposed to revolutions_.

~Samuel Johnson

"Bella, please put your shoes back on. Charlie should be here in ten minutes."

I sighed and scanned the baggage claim area one more time. It was the same Port Angeles airport I'd arrived at when I'd first moved to Forks. My suitcase beside me had no destination tags, as I hadn't actually flown here, but I could easily tell Charlie I'd already ripped them off. Moving my green knapsack off my feet, I slid my toes into the slip-on shoes Alice had purchased at my request. Easy on, easy off, just as I had instructed.

I checked my watch nervously, not wanting to be caught off guard.

10:11 A.M.

Friday

May 14

Inside my suitcase I carried some of the less flashy clothing Esme had purchased for me two months prior when the weather had been much colder than it was now. All my shirts were pale in color and had long sleeves and reasonably high necklines, even the pajama tops I'd recently acquired. The swelling in my veins had receded, but there were still too many scars, and I wasn't sure how much experience Charlie had with such things as needle tracks. My sturdy backpack contained my release paperwork; the fifteen grand McCoig had given Carlisle, some of which was in a small wallet; my cell phone, not to be used in front of Charlie; the iPod Edward had given me full of my favorite music (for once I didn't argue strenuously about a gift, which had shocked him); a combination lock; the term paper I would claim I had to finish for school; several tubes of cover-up and a small mirror for the scars on my neck; and a fake I.D. listing my address on North 24th Avenue in Pasco, Washington. I didn't actually plan on telling anyone the name of a specific town, in case Charlie got it in his head to start searching there if this visit didn't work out, but I had to have some form of identification in hand if I expected anyone to believe I'd just been on an airplane.

I shifted on the bench, pressing myself against Edward's granite body, grateful that I _could_ do that, that we could both be comfortable with the closeness we'd worked so hard to bring back. He had driven me here in Carlisle's car, and I wondered if he'd be able to contain his frustration at driving within the speed limit to follow Charlie's cruiser or if he would change his mind and zip back home rather than tail me.

"I hope I can do this," I murmured. "You know what an awful liar I am." The fear of slipping up in front of Charlie went deeper than merely worrying about delivering the stories I'd memorized to satisfy Charlie's curiosity, but I preferred not to dwell on that just yet.

"You're not half bad these days," Edward mused. "You don't bite your lip as often anymore, which is helpful." He rubbed my shoulder gently for a minute, and I leaned over to press my cheek against his cold, silk-stone hand.

"You'll stay over tonight, right?" I muttered insecurely, wishing I could fold Edward up and stow him in my backpack. "I'm worried about the nightmares." It was because of those severe, violent dreams that I was only coming for a weekend visit, testing myself to see if I could handle moving back without hurting my father or getting caught up in yet another terrifying flashback or anxiety attack. Behavioral therapy was not at all pleasant, but Jasper, Edward, and I worked hard at it. I'd been doing well in the last several days—I hadn't screamed or fainted once—and Jasper was exceedingly pleased with my rapid progress. Despite that, we all knew this was happening sooner than I needed it to and still not soon enough for Charlie.

"Of course I'll stay with you, silly girl," Edward chuckled, kissing me in the usual spot on my head. "I'll sing to you all night. I hope you're in the mood for Italian operas."

I smiled up at him. "Watch yourself, Edward. You know how you get carried away when you perform Puccini. It's like you're trying to give all three Tenors a run for their money."

"Do you think Charlie would object to a moonlight serenade?" Edward asked playfully. "I believe you did say something about him being a hopeless romantic in his younger days."

"He might get upset if it doesn't stop after eleven," I teased back. "And he'd certainly have something to say if he heard it coming from down the hall rather than outside the house."

"I suppose I'll have to rein it in, then," Edward laughed.

"You'll survive," I laughed back. It felt good, joking with him about trivial things. "I'll miss you, Edward."

"It will be a long day for me," he sighed. "I hate being separated, but you really should have some privacy with your father."

"I know," I said. "I love you, Edward. I don't say that enough."

"I feel it every day," Edward replied, leaning down to touch his forehead to mine. Carefully, using the softest pressure imaginable, he placed an icy kiss just to the left of my mouth. For all his pretense at a casual air for my sake, I knew that it was no small thing for him to have reached this point, to allow himself that little physical token of affection. "My beautiful Bella."

Then he snapped his head up, brushed his hand lightly over my face from my forehead to my chin, and vanished. "I love you," his velvet voice echoed behind me.

I looked up just in time to see Charlie approaching the sliding door. I shouldered my backpack, gripped my suitcase handle, and walked forward to meet my father. He looked older than I remembered, but his eyes were bright.

"Dad!" I said, suddenly excited. I'd been looking forward to this for so long, actually seeing him was a surreal experience.

"Bella?" Charlie called, glancing around before his eyes landed on me. "Bella!" He strode toward me quickly and pulled me into a strong embrace. It was not the one-armed hug I remembered from before; this time he nearly crushed the breath out of my lungs for the first few seconds. His softness and body heat were foreign to me after months living among cold, marble-skinned vampires. I kept my chin tucked so he wouldn't smudge the make-up on my neck as I hugged him back. It was a long time before he let me go, but eventually I pulled away, peering up at him curiously. I had been expecting a certain amount of discomfort, but it wasn't there, not in the way I'd thought—I did feel guilty for delaying this for so long, but I was actually fine with being held by my human father, at least for a little while. I couldn't _wait_ to tell Jasper.

Charlie held me at arms length to have a better look. "You look so tired," he observed. "You must have gotten up early for this flight."

I smiled weakly, wondering which memory of me could possibly be his gold standard against which my current form was being compared. "Yeah, I had a rough morning."

"Let's go home," Charlie said exuberantly, reaching for my suitcase. He didn't notice when I turned back and searched for Edward's anxiety-ridden eyes.

The ride back to Forks was not as quiet as I'd hoped it would be, and not just because I was accustomed to the low-pitched voices of the Cullens. Charlie wanted to know about what I'd been up to, and I repeated the story Edward and Alice had concocted about my attending a high school four nights a week after work. He moved on to questions about my job and my apartment, asking me more than once to stop mumbling, though I thought I was speaking normally. Which was only a little annoying. I was careful not to give specific details about my pretend life, telling him only that I lived in a small apartment with several roommates, and that work was exhausting and boring and not something I wanted to talk about on my day off. He told me about a few vandalism cases he'd been working that appeared to be the work of bored middle-school students with too much free time and not enough parental supervision. The expectant twist of his eyebrow clearly indicated he wanted me to elaborate about something, too, anything.

Hoping to avoid more pointed questions about my life, I leaned my head against the cool glass window and closed my eyes for a few moments, claiming I was still tired from class the night before coupled with the day's journey. It was of utmost importance that I not fall asleep yet—I _really_ didn't want to have the beating dreams again, especially not _right now_—so I turned my whole face to the window and watched the scenery fly by as we made our way to Forks. Déjà vu, but not really. Charlie slipped into a more comfortable silence, and I glanced at the rearview mirror and noticed the black Mercedes two cars back. My heart gave a little squeeze.

Charlie's house looked almost exactly the way it had when I'd last seen it, with the exception of everything being coated in a layer of dust. I sighed when I saw my room. Obviously Charlie had not come in here in a long time, although I immediately spotted evidence of Edward's last visit when I saw my dusty pillow behind the door instead of on the bed—I could almost picture him sitting there, listening to my dad in secret and trying to figure out where I was. Other than that, everything was exactly the same as I'd left it: my old shoes and books were still on the floor, the bed was unmade, the hamper was half-full of laundry, and the sheet still covered my mirror. I yanked the white fabric away and looked quickly at the reflection of my neck—only my neck. It seemed my scars didn't need a touch-up yet. I set my suitcase down beside my dresser without unpacking it, threaded my padlock through the tabs of my backpack's zipper, and slid the pack under my bed. I didn't want to leave my bag in Charlie's direct line of sight, should he decide to visit my room in my absence. I glanced over at the rocking chair in the corner—Coping Mechanism Number Five, rocking, was to be used in private, and the chair would at least make it look normal if Charlie walked in. I didn't need it yet, but I was glad it was there.

The next order of business was to assess the bathroom (messy and in need of more toilet paper, typical of a bachelor) and the kitchen (also messy and in need of a shopping trip). I started right in on fixing grilled sandwiches for lunch, grateful that Charlie had switched to wheat bread and purchased an actual vegetable, the lone tomato in the crisper drawer. Charlie stood in the doorway watching me for a good five minutes, not saying anything, just smiling a little before he turned back to the living room and switched on the twelve o'clock news.

After lunch, Charlie sat back and studied me for a minute before clearing his throat. I could tell by the timbre of it that he was about to ask me something he was not comfortable discussing.

"So Edward paid for your plane ticket here, did he?"

I picked up our plates and turned to the sink to wash them. "His parents did," I said, reaching for the dish soap. "They insisted. I thought it was very kind of them."

"Generous," Charlie agreed. He sighed. "So when is Edward coming over?" he grumbled.

"Tomorrow," I replied, scrubbing at the dish forcefully and moving quickly to the second plate. "He thought you and I would like some time alone today." Edward had made plans to go hunting for the day to keep himself occupied.

"Oh." Charlie sounded a little surprised. "That's…decent of him."

"Yep," I answered, turning my attention to the frying pan.

"Bella," Charlie said quietly, "about Edward…"

I looked out the window as he stared at my back. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you sure it's healthy for you to see him again?" His voice was concerned, but tinged with something else I couldn't guess at.

I scrubbed the pan a little longer, letting the motion absorb me. "I find it interesting that you would ask me that question, Charlie. You're the one who told me he was here so I'd come back to Forks."

"I know," Charlie admitted, his voice drooping. "I'm just worried about you."

"Don't be," I said with forced calm, rinsing the pan and setting it on the dish towel. "It's just a visit."

"I don't like it, Bella. He disappeared for months and never contacted you, never called to check on you, nothing."

"It was a misunderstanding." I started on the cooking utensils.

"'A misunderstanding?' Bella, come on—"

"That's enough, Charlie," I said testily, scraping the sponge across the paring knife I'd used to slice the tomato. "You thought he'd be enough to bring me here. He is. Now you want him out of the picture. You can't have it both ways."

"Bella, you had to be _hospitalized_ because of him. If he messes you up again—"

"Enough!" I growled, dropping the knife into the sink and whirling around. "Don't you _dare_ bring that up!" I glared at him scornfully, and drew myself up to my full height.

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, and I heard him inhale sharply. "Okay, Bells. Calm down. I was just trying to make a point."

I shut my eyes and took deep breaths. I counted to ten in my head. I pictured Edward's sparkling skin in our meadow. Jasper had made me practice these simple tricks dozens of times in preparation for this visit.

"Sorry, Dad," I apologized when I'd calmed myself. "I didn't mean to snap at you, but I'm sure you can imagine why that might be a sensitive topic for me. I'm trying to get to a good place in my life, wherever that is. Don't make things more difficult for me than they already are."

"I'm sorry, Bella." He cast his eyes to the floor. "I just don't want anything to hurt you anymore. Surely you can understand that."

I really could.

"I know. But you're going to have to accept that these choices are mine to make," I said firmly. "It would also be helpful if you could be nice to Edward when he comes over." I turned back to the sink to complete my chore.

"Okay, Bells. I can try to do that much," he agreed, still sounding a little reluctant.

"Thank you," I replied stiffly. "Now, about dinner. You need some groceries around here."

"We can go out if you'd like," Charlie offered, looking a little embarrassed at the state of his kitchen. Rightfully so—it was horrendous.

"No, I'd rather cook," I replied. I knew I'd have to eat in public with Charlie at least once while here, but a crowded diner on a busy Friday night did not seem to me like a good place or time to start. "Are you coming with me to Thriftway, or should I go alone?" Alice was staying home this weekend to watch over me, and I knew she or Esme would meet me at the store if I needed them. Everyone else besides Edward was either working or away until Monday.

"I'll come with you," Charlie said quickly, pushing back from the table with uncharacteristic speed and enthusiasm. I grimaced to myself as I turned back to the sink. My father must have missed me terribly if this was his response to a one-hour grocery excursion.

* * *

After an early dinner of pan-fried steaks (medium rare for me, just the way I liked it), Charlie suggested we head over to Newton's to visit with my former boss. I didn't want to go, but it was important to keep Charlie happy, and he had taken the day off work to be with me, so I went along with it.

The moment we walked through the doors, I regretted my decision to go near the place. Mike Newton was sweeping the floor near the entrance. He automatically greeted us with a bored "Hi, welcome to Olympic Outfitters. Can I help you?" before he lifted his eyes and saw me. His jaw dropped slightly, and he stared at me as though I were an apparition.

"Hello, Mike," I said uncomfortably. "How are you?"

It took him a few extra seconds to form a response. "H-hi, Bella. Wow. You're here. It's great to see you again." He gave me a tentative, tight-lipped smile.

Not wanting to be rude, I smiled back slightly. "Nice to see you, too. Are your parents here? I'd like to say hi."

"Sure, my dad's in the office. I'll go get him." Mike stared a moment longer before turning away. I watched curiously as he nearly dropped his broom in his hurry to retrieve his father. Charlie and I walked to the counter to wait.

"Bella!" Mr. Newton boomed as he emerged from the office door. "What a surprise!" We exchanged idle pleasantries for a minute, and I tried to ignore the way he looked me up and down, like I was some kind of sideshow attraction. I repeated my story about living "back east" and quickly asked after Mrs. Newton. I could feel Mike's eyes on me the whole time.

Charlie turned the conversation to fishing gear and followed Mr. Newton to the rods and reels while I wandered over to some glass display cases. Mike put his broom away and came to stand across the counter from me. I asked about school and my old acquaintances. He assured me they were all doing well, and that Angela Weber in particular would be glad to hear from me.

"So do you have any plans for this weekend?" Mike asked, trying and failing to sound casual rather than eager. It was oddly comforting that he didn't mind I was a former mental patient, but I knew men just well enough to believe his keen interest was rooted in something possessive and acquisitional rather than caring.

"Edward is in town. He's coming to spend the day with me tomorrow," I replied nonchalantly, eyeing the pocket knives on a plastic display carousel. I saw disappointment and frustration in his face and resisted the urge to smile.

"You look different, Bella," Mike said after a minute of awkward silence. "Different, but good."

"Thanks," I responded sarcastically, pulling a folding knife from the carousel and turning the package over to check the price. "Is this the new Gerber?" I'd sold several similar knives to backpackers when I'd worked here, and I hoped talking shop would distract Mike from staring at me.

"Yes," Mike said, switching to a store clerk verbal rhythm. "That's the Aluminum Presto 3.0 with a stainless steel drop point blade and a serrated edge. See, it has a push-button lock and opens easily with one hand." He lowered his voice. "I can use my employee discount to knock down the price if you want." He winked at me and smiled flirtatiously.

"Sounds good," I said coldly, staring unblinkingly into his eyes and adding an edge to my voice. "A girl has to be prepared for unwanted advances." I smirked at him and handed him the box. "Ring it up."

I had the satisfaction of watching Mike blink nervously and take a step back before taking the knife to the register. I followed, pulling my wallet out of my backpack as I tried to hide my smile. I yanked out a fifty, handed it to Mike, and told him I didn't need a bag. After stuffing the change into a small charity can on the counter, I removed the knife from its box and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans.

"I'm ready, Charlie," I called before turning back to the boy in front of me, keeping my voice low and pleasant. "Nice to see again, Mike. You take care now. Tell your mother I said hello." I waved goodbye to Mr. Newton and stalked out of the store a little ahead of my father. I felt two pairs of eyes follow me out the door.

"What'd you buy?" Charlie asked curiously once we were in the cruiser.

"Just a pocket knife. I have to ride the bus or walk everywhere, and I've been meaning to buy something like this," I said evenly. "Mike offered me a good deal."

"Bella," Charlie said worriedly, "are you sure it's safe for you to be out there on your own?"

I smiled. "I'm in a low-crime area, Dad. This is more of a security blanket than anything else." It surprised me how easy it was to lie about this until it occurred to me that part of it wasn't really a lie. Having the knife in my pocket actually _did_ make me feel better. I pushed away from my speculations about why I felt that way by asking Charlie if I could invite Angela out to breakfast with us the next day.

I kicked off my despised shoes the minute I walked in the door and dug up Angela's phone number from the old address book in my desk. She sounded delighted to hear my voice and agreed to meet us at the Pancake House in the morning. After that I spent most of the evening cleaning that god-awful bathroom and doing laundry. Charlie had finally relaxed enough that he didn't feel the need to shadow my every move, which had been out of character and a little unnerving. He watched the evening news instead, allowing me to finish much faster than I would have with him underfoot. It was easy and natural, doing these things for him like I had before, and I finally understood why Jasper wanted me to release my resentment months ago—I could take care of Charlie this weekend and have it be a _gift_. Eventually I sat with him in the living room, taking time to evaluate him as I folded his t-shirts and paired his socks. He seemed happy enough today, but there were dark circles under his eyes, and his posture suggested a weariness that went beyond having driven all over creation the whole day to please his daughter. There were a few light hairs sprouting along his hairline, something that shocked me more than I thought it would. Charlie was aging, and I was not only missing it, I was making it worse.

"Aren't you going to call Renee?" Charlie reminded me. "You should do it now, before it gets too late in Jacksonville."

I sighed tiredly. "Yeah, you're right. I should have called her earlier, but I knew she'd never let me off the phone early enough to get anything done around here."

Charlie smiled up at me as I rose from the couch. "Thank you, Bells. It's really nice, having you home again. You don't have to do all these chores, you know."

I returned his smile lovingly. "I know. You're welcome."

Anticipating a long conversation, I pulled a dining chair over to the wall and removed the old handset from its cradle. I wished Charlie would get a cordless phone already. It was ridiculous, being tethered to one spot like this. Charlie would be able to hear most of my conversation if not for the television. With another sigh, I dialed Renee's number for the first time in months.

One ring.

Two rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey Phil. Is Renee home?"

"Who is this?"

I narrowed my eyes, but kept my voice polite. "Her daughter."

"Bella?" Surprise rang in his voice. "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't recognize your voice. You sound so different."

"No problem, Phil," I laughed, recovering from my irritation. It was my own fault for not calling since the winter. "How are you?"

"I'm great, Bella. I'm glad you called. Here's Renee."

There was a brief pause.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Bella?" She was almost breathless. "Bella! Oh honey, I'm so happy you called. Phil, it's Bella!"

I rolled my eyes, though I still felt guilty. "How are you, Mom?"

"Never mind me, how are _you_? What have you been doing with yourself?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm just visiting Dad for the weekend. You wouldn't _believe_ the state he left the bathroom in. I was in there for almost an hour disinfecting everything."

I spent a good twenty minutes telling her about my day with Charlie, the school I didn't really go to, the job I didn't really have, and the apartment I didn't really live in. I made sure to give no identifying details, other than to say my boss was named Joe and one of my roommates was named Rosie. It was wearing, having to expend so much effort to reassure her while keeping my secrets safe, and I wished I'd taken my family's advice and done this at home, with Edward and Jasper to help me, rather than waiting until I was in Charlie's presence so that he'd be placated. I asked Renee about work, if the kindergartners were treating her right, and I asked about Phil and how his team was doing. She spent another thirty minutes gushing about all the hobbies she'd tried. I rolled my eyes so many times I thought they might pop right out of their sockets. Skydiving, indeed. When I asked if she was attempting to face her acrophobia, she sheepishly admitted to having forgotten all about the height issue until she was in the plane. With a sigh, I rested my forehead in my hand. When would she ever learn?

Finally she tired of the topic and became a little more serious. "Bella, why didn't you move back home after you were released from St. Vincent's?"

As usual, my mother went right to the heart of the matter.

"I wanted a fresh start. Is that so hard to understand?" It shouldn't be, not for her. I took a deep but quiet breath through my nose.

"Then why didn't you come to stay with me?" she demanded.

_Because I was on drugs, insane, and unsafe to be around, because you would never have been able to provide the care I needed, and because you would have sent me back to the pit from whence I came._

"Because I wanted to be on my own." I closed my eyes and pictured Edward's laughing face, his warm smile.

"Bella, I want you to come live with us in Jacksonville," my mother pressed. "It's beautiful here; the sun shines all the time. There's a lot for you and I to do together. We can take surfing lessons!"

"Surfing lessons," I repeated flatly. Was she seriously trying to lure me with _surfing lessons_?

"You can finish school here and start all over," she said in what she thought was a tempting voice.

"I already have started over, Mom," I countered, concentrating on keeping my voice even. "I'm back in school, I have a job, and I have very good roommates." At least the last part was true.

"Bella, don't be ridiculous," she persisted. "You need to be with people who love you. Come stay with me."

_I _am_ with people who love me._

"Mother, please stop. I am not moving to Florida—I would only crowd you and Phil. I'm fine where I am." This conversation was getting highly irritating; my heart rate was starting to pick up.

"But I can stay with you," she said pleadingly. "I'm still teaching until the first week of June, and then I have a few teacher workdays, so I can't travel with Phil yet anyway."

"Until June?" I repeated incredulously. "So you'll stay with me for a few weeks and then be on the road fifteen days out of every month?" So much for staying with people who love me.

"I wouldn't go away with him for every game," she said, sounding ashamed. Clearly she had not thought this through.

"Mom," I said as patiently as I could manage, "you want to be with Phil all the time. I understand that. That's why I came to Forks in the first place. Just go on with your own plans. I'll be fine, I swear."

"But if you weren't on your own—" she began, but I cut her off.

"If I weren't on my own, I'd be living in Forks with Charlie, finishing school here. And then I'd be going away to college _on my own._" I tried to sound reasonable. "Please stop acting like my living situation is something radical and unheard of. You don't need me there, and I don't want to go. End of story."

"But Bella," she said, sounding almost whiny, "I can take care of you."

"Will you give it a rest?" I snapped, finally losing patience with her immature pleading. "You don't want to take care of me, Mother; you want _me_ to take care of _you_, just like I always have. You want me to make you feel better about everything by moving in with you and pretending to go back to normal. I'm sorry, but it's not my job to take care of you anymore. You're a grown woman with a husband and a very full life. Those things were decided long before any of this happened. I love you, but you have to _stop_ being such a child about this. You have your life, and I have mine."

Silence. Sniffling. I had made her _cry_.

"Mom," I said remorsefully, "I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I shouldn't have been so disrespectful. I didn't mean to get angry with you. It's just…" I searched for the right words. "You've always made the choices that you thought were in your best interest. I'm doing the same for myself now. You and Charlie are both going to have to respect that."

"But why didn't you call me, Bella?" she sobbed. "I've been worried out of my mind about you. You wouldn't take my calls at the hospital, and then you dropped off the face of the earth."

"Mom, stop exaggerating," I sighed, a few tears of my own slithering down my face.

"Answer the question," she insisted. "Why didn't you call?"

I opened my mouth and the truth flew out. "I didn't call because I knew you'd act exactly the way you're acting right now. And quite frankly, I just don't have the energy to deal with it anymore, Renee." I said it seriously, with no trace of anger. It was the first time I'd ever directly addressed her by her first name; she gasped slightly at the sound of it.

"Bella…" she said quietly.

Charlie came swiftly to where I sat and plucked the phone from my hand. I hadn't heard him get up from his recliner, but now I could hear that the TV was muted. He must have heard everything I'd said.

"Renee," he said into the phone, "stop this. Bella has been through enough without adding your guilt trips and demands. Our daughter is an adult. I don't like every choice she makes, but she has the right to make them. You will not make things harder for her, is that clear?" His voice was hard, protective, and just a shade below his official police business tone. He was telling her all the things I'd told him only this afternoon, and he was saying them with real conviction.

I heard my mother's tiny voice raise an octave as she argued with my father.

"This is not a negotiation, Renee," Charlie growled back. "I've waited months to see my daughter, and you're not going to ruin the only time I have with her by playing the victim. I know she should have called you sooner, and I was plenty furious about that myself, but she must have had her reasons for not doing so. To be honest, I'm beginning to understand her position."

My mother's response squawked through the phone, but Charlie would hear none of it. "That's it. I'm done." He tossed me the phone and stormed out of the kitchen.

I stared after him in amazement, my mouth agape and my tears flowing, before I raised the phone back to my ear.

"I love you, Mom," I said softly, still in awe. "I'd better let you go now."

"I love you, sweetie," Renee cried. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. Bye Mom."

"Bye honey."

I hung up.

I took a very deep breath and attempted to compose myself before walking back to the living room. Charlie sat in his recliner, eyes facing the silent television but not really seeing the images.

"Dad?" I said hesitantly. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to get so combative, and I certainly didn't mean for you to get in the middle of it."

"It's okay," he said, eyes still far away. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not okay, Dad." It was difficult to keep my voice from shaking. "Look at you, you're a mess. I should have just shut my mouth and let her jabber on."

"No, Bella," he said, focusing on me suddenly. "The things you said were a long time coming. Renee was always the child emotionally, even when we were first married. I loved that about her at the time, and sometimes I still do, but right now it's annoying and counter-productive." He looked down at his hands. He'd never admitted to not getting over Renee, but we'd both always known. Fighting with her must have really cost him. "I think I understand why you didn't call me for so long. I must have sounded just the same, begging you to come home even though you didn't want to."

"No, Dad," I reassured him quickly. "It's different with you. Renee makes everything about herself, but even when I was mad I knew you only asked because you were concerned about me." I paused, trying to fight back the renewed stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Dad. I've missed being with you. Going on my own was just something I had to do."

Charlie smiled sadly. "I love you too, Bells. I'm glad you're here, even if it's just for a little while."

"Me too," I smiled back. "Really."

Charlie turned the sound back up on the television. I wiped my face on my sleeve and gathered up his clean laundry. "I'm going to put your things away and have a shower. Don't stay up too late; we're meeting Angela at 8:30."

"No problem," he said with a sigh. "I'm pretty tired myself."

I heard him get up and move to the kitchen as I towed his laundry up the stairs to his room. After I'd finished my chore, I made sure to grab some of my long-sleeved pajamas along with my old bathroom bag and an extra tube of concealer, just in case. My half-empty bottle of strawberry shampoo was still sitting on the shower caddy where I'd left it months ago, and it was very easy to resume my old long-hot-shower routine. The scrubbing brush and nearly scalding water didn't ease quite as much of the day's tension as I'd hoped, though they did alleviate the itching from the scar tissue on my back and highlight the marks on my neck. I listened carefully at the door for Charlie's snores before I decided to forego the make-up and scurry back to my room.

I slid my window open—it only stuck a little—and sat quietly at my desk. Within a second, Edward's moonlit face was peering at me from the window. I smiled welcomingly, and he was at my side almost instantly, kneeling down beside my chair. Sweet relief flooded my body, and I lifted my hand to thread my fingers through his hair. He caressed my jaw carefully with his cold fingertips, letting them linger at my chin. A dull ache I'd been trying to ignore all day suddenly vanished.

"How was your day?" I whispered.

"Long and desolate without you. And yours?" His honey eyes searched mine furtively.

"Better than I expected," I sighed. "And worse."

Edward rose and pulled me gently to my feet, guiding me to the rocking chair in the corner. He unfolded the quilt I'd left draped across the old chair, wrapped it carefully around me, and sat down with his arms open, waiting for me to sit with him. I sank into his lap and tucked my head under his jaw.

"Tell me all about it, my love," he murmured, brushing my hair with his fingers and rocking me very slowly. I closed my eyes and pulled my arm across his chest, gratefully latching on to his shoulder.


	15. Considerations

Chapter 15 Considerations

_Life is a constant oscillation between the sharp horns of dilemmas._

~Henry Louis Mencken

"Why so nervous, Bells?"

For a fairly observant guy and a trained law enforcement official, Charlie could be so oblivious sometimes.

"People are staring at me, Dad," I whispered back. "How do you think that makes me feel?"

Charlie's head perked up and swiveled around. A few heads quickly turned away, and I wondered if anyone in this town actually felt anything that resembled fear of the law. I eased my feet out of my shoes and rubbed them together; the durable fabric of my backpack scraped lightly against my ankle. I wished Angela would arrive soon so I could stop feeling like a circus freak. Charlie mentioned having told Billy I'd be coming for a visit, but it didn't seem like he had advertised it to anyone else; everyone's first glimpse of me was colored with surprise. Certainly the cashier and stock boys at the grocery store had been shocked to see me with Charlie the day before. I'd tried to be polite to them all in my father's presence, to smile if their eyes lingered too long rather than glare like I wanted to. But I wished they wouldn't stare so hard. It was twenty times worse than my first day at Forks High School. Stupid, inconsiderate humans.

My last thought took me aback, and I shook my head to clear it. Since when were humans something separate from me? It was true that I'd always felt like I was different than most people, but I'd never thought of myself as _inhuman._

Angela walked into the diner just then, craning her neck to search for me. "Angela!" I called in relief. "We're over here."

She turned in our direction, a warm smile of recognition on her face. "Bella."

Without warning, I was caught up in a memory: Angela's voice, calling my name, screaming for someone to call the nurse.

I blinked several times and made a fist under the table, forcing the faded sound away. Jasper's voice echoed in my head: _remember to smile._

I smiled back at my friend and half-rose in my seat. Charlie turned around and waved in friendly greeting.

As Angela made her way toward me, I remembered why she was the person I was most willing to invite along to something like this. Unlike Jessica or Mike or any of the other kids from school, Angela was the only human there who I felt truly cared about me as a person. She seemed sincerely glad to see me again, curious but not rudely so. I gave her a quick hug hello and made room for her to sit beside me so we could order.

I asked about her family and her boyfriend Ben Cheney, who she was still so happy with after all this time. She asked about where I lived, did not pry when I didn't name a town, and asked for tips on living with roommates, since she would be living in a dorm at the University of Washington in the fall. I emphasized the importance of respecting each other's space and feelings. We didn't talk about the condition I'd been in last time she'd seen me or why I'd gone away. Charlie was positively glowing with happiness at my renewal of friendship, and for a little while it felt like I was, too. Angela gave me her e-mail address before she left and urged me to write to her if I ever got internet access.

Unfortunately, my calm did not last long after that—I was jittery about Edward and Charlie being in the same room later. I tried listening to some of my favorite cello music that Edward had downloaded onto my MP3 player (the minute I told him I was the slightest bit interested in the instrument, it was all I could do to stop him from bringing home an actual cello and hiring Yo-yo Ma to give me lessons), but the music wasn't quite enough to soothe me today. Hoping to release some of my excess nervous energy, I told Charlie that I wanted to clean the kitchen before starting on lunch and my essay. He nodded and flipped on the TV to ESPN while I walked to the kitchen. It really was awful, even with the little cleaning I'd done the day before. I started putting away the now dry dishes I'd washed after dinner the previous night when it came to my attention that something was different about the room.

I turned around and saw, positioned in almost the exact midpoint of the kitchen table, a short, wide drinking glass.

I did not remember this glass at all. Charlie had not owned any glasses shaped like this when I lived with him, and it had not been on the table during our dinner the night before. It was round, about four inches in height, with a thick, heavy base. The diameter of the base was approximately the same as that of the mouth, about four inches across.

I picked it up to examine it more closely. It was perfectly clean but for a very fine layer of dust on the inside, so I placed the glass in the appropriate cabinet and turned my attention to the abyss that was Charlie's countertop.

* * *

"What time is he supposed to be here?" Charlie asked from his recliner, his eyes flickering away from whatever sports talk show he was watching and examining me for a minute. Real homework was something I never did in front of the television, but I knew Charlie would feel better if he could see my face. I had stretched out on the couch to rest while I worked on my fake essay, hoping to keep my father in his chair so that Edward would be able to sit next to me.

"One o'clock," I said, checking my watch again. "In about ten minutes." My toes curled in expectation, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitching up every few seconds. Apprehensive though I was about Charlie seeing Edward, I found that it paled in comparison to the anticipation of being in Edward's arms again.

Edward had sung quietly all night, as promised. It had not been enough to keep the nightmares completely at bay, but I'd managed to wake with only strangled sobs and several kicks and tremors. Comparatively speaking, it was the least restless night I'd had in over a full month, though I still woke exhausted. I hoped desperately that I hadn't said anything loud enough for Charlie to hear. Edward did everything he could to allay my lingering terror, cradling me like a small child, massaging my temples, even exhaling his scent carefully in my face to help me forget. And after, when my heart was calm, the way we'd held each other was marvelous, laced fingers and quiet whispers into his throat. My dreams were such that he never tried to kiss my lips anymore without my express invitation, and even then only with the very lightest of touches. I felt certain that we would be able to recapture our former level of physical intimacy, but I had no idea how long it would be before Jimmy was no longer psychologically in bed with me every night. I hoped he would depart from my mind soon and leave Edward and me in peace.

It had been nearly impossible to say goodbye to Edward in the morning, though I knew he'd be with me again in a matter of hours. The complexity of my emotions surprised me. I didn't simply _need_ him like a crutch or a night light. I _wanted_ the pleasure of his continued company, wanted to make him smile as he made me smile, and hoped to erase the troubled lines carved in his forehead when he exhaled despondently or frowned just after saying his temporary farewell. I loved making him happy, and I wanted to be allowed to do it every minute of the day. The imposed isolation was painful to both of us; there was no place on earth I'd rather be than in his arms.

The sound of his quick knock at the door broke through my reverie and sent a jolt of joy through me, body and soul. Tossing my paper on the couch, I jumped up and shot like lightning to the front door, a huge grin dawning across my face. In the back of my head I noted Charlie's surprised reaction to my obvious glee, but I had no room to ponder it yet. There was only a thin wooden barrier between Edward and me, and I was in a hurry to get past it.

I flung the door open and stopped short. Edward was breathtakingly beautiful, flawless, godlike, and lovely before me, and yet the most wonderful part was not the perfection of his features but the expression on his face. He was absolutely radiant with love, and he looked for all the world like it really had been eight months since we'd seen each other. The pleasure of it was almost painful, and I threw myself into his arms without a single word or thought.

Eternity in his embrace passed in the blink of an eye.

Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly behind me, and I turned to look at him, still alight with rapture. Whatever my father had been about to say, and judging by his expression it probably wasn't overly cordial, died on his lips the moment he looked into my face. I saw the change instantly, how the worry lines vanished and the pain faded from his eyes, making him ten years younger in the work of a moment.

"Hello, Chief Swan," Edward said, lowering his arms and taking my hand instead. "How are you?"

A strange, slightly confused smile briefly flashed across Charlie's face before he became stern again. "You can still call me Charlie."

I gave Edward's hand a little squeeze. "Would you like to come in?"

Edward beamed at me. "I'd love to."

"So, Edward," Charlie said, settling down into his chair as I cleared my things off the couch. "I heard you were away at a boarding school." His eyes clearly said, _so what are you doing here?_

"Yes sir," Edward answered politely, taking my hand again as we sat together. "I attend the Shawnigan Lake School on Vancouver Island. It's only a few hours' drive from here, so I'm able to visit my family frequently now they've moved back to Washington."

"Oh," Charlie said thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

Charlie left the TV on, deciding to make conversation during the commercials. Edward sat a little away from me—it was difficult for me not to scoot closer and tuck myself under his arm—and he asked me the questions we'd rehearsed, the same ones I seemed to be answering whenever I ran into anyone else in town, about work and school and my apartment. Since my cover story was that I'd called Edward after Charlie's revelation and would presumably have already told him the basics, we had to vary it a little. I made jokes about my boss being an annoying goofball who appeared to be on steroids, improvising a little where it felt right, and I told funny roommate stories based on the things Alice and Rosalie got up to during their down time, like the day we'd all dressed in full Goth attire and make-up just for the hell of it. Edward cracked me up with completely unrehearsed stories about his "roommate" at Shawnigan Lake, and I realized he was telling me about some of Emmett's most embarrassing moments that had happened long before my birth. They were the kind of stories Emmett might have smashed Edward's piano over if he'd overheard Edward revealing them. This, of course, only made me laugh harder.

"And Alice?" I asked with a smile, enjoying this odd game. "How is she?"

"Quite well, thank you," he grinned back crookedly. "I believe she and my parents would like to see you, if you're free for dinner."

I frowned slightly. We hadn't discussed fictional dinner plans, and I didn't want to leave Charlie alone when I was supposed to be visiting him, no matter how tempting the idea of returning home. "I don't know. Dad, did you still want to have dinner with me here? I can invite Alice to come over afterwards."

"No, Bella, you go ahead. You should go thank Edward's folks in person for the plane tickets," Charlie said with resignation in his voice. "I can't keep you cooped up in the house all weekend."

"Are you sure, Dad?"

"You go on, honey. There's a baseball game I want to catch, so I won't be good company anyway."

"Alright," I acquiesced, still unsure. "I'll cook you something before I go. You had entirely too many pizza boxes stacked up in the kitchen. That's not good for a man your age." As I looked at him, I realized that his complexion was different than I remembered. He looked…wrong. Then I wondered if he thought the same thing about me.

Charlie was constantly flip-flopping between grilling Edward about his plans for the future and analyzing the Seattle Mariners' chances at making it to the World Series. Edward was unfailingly polite, answering every question, though in the case of college plans he surprised me by not bragging about the Ivy League schools he could easily have been accepted to (and had already attended, in some cases). I realized Edward was responding to my father's irritation when Charlie gave me a regretful look. Perhaps Charlie blamed Edward for my missing out on so many educational opportunities. He certainly blamed Edward for my long absence. I started to feel Charlie's rising tension from across the room, and it made me want to get up and pace.

Edward, probably feeling the invisible tremors in my muscles, asked Charlie if it would be alright if we took a walk alone. Charlie asked that we not go far and turned his attention back to the TV without another word. I didn't understand my father's expression and looked up at Edward inquiringly.

"Why don't you put your schoolwork away first," Edward suggested calmly, eyes on Charlie.

I gathered up my stack of papers and dashed up the stairs. It seemed like a very bad idea to leave Edward and Charlie alone for too long. I paused in my room, considering my backpack as I stowed my faux homework inside it. My bag went everywhere with me during this visit, mostly because it made me feel better, and leaving it alone anywhere made me just a tad nervous. I didn't want to leave it lying around for Charlie to snoop through, but I didn't know how he'd react if I took it with me on a simple walk through the woods behind my house. Deciding to be sneaky, I padlocked it again and hid it inside my hamper under the pajamas I'd worn last night. I double checked my neck in the mirror, applied a fresh layer of concealer before jamming the tube into my left pocket, and rushed back down the stairs.

Neither Charlie nor Edward had moved, but the air felt thicker with palpable stress and…something else? Charlie turned up the volume on the TV, and Edward was stone-faced as he rose from the sofa. I slowed in front of the strange scene, wishing I had some of Edward's or Jasper's gifts so I could evaluate these men properly and understand the strange current in the room. I slid into my shoes and grabbed my raincoat. "I'm ready," I said softly. Charlie did not look at me or speak. "We'll be back in a little while, Dad," I tried.

"Sure thing," he said to the television.

I seized Edward's right hand at the door, and he led me outside. His face had not changed from its cold, blank expression, which made me anxious. Edward started to lead me to the trees east of my house rather than turning back south as I'd expected.

A painful moment of déjà vu hit me, and found myself abruptly pulling back at the edge of the woods. _Not there._ I would not go back to _those_ trees, to that part of the forest that had spawned all my long months of hellish nightmares, enshrouding me in dark depths and locked doors. Edward looked back at me, startled by my reaction.

"Don't," I echoed at the Edward in my memory. "Don't do this."

"Bella?" He sounded confused.

I was in September, bewildered, hurt, frightened, but most of all full of dread. This time I knew what awaited me, what I would face, the emptiness, the debilitating agony, the evil hiding behind smiling faces. I yanked back once more, trying to pull Edward with me, to protect us both from that terrible future. "Please," I begged, tears springing forth. "Don't leave."

Understanding dawned on Edward's face; he turned his body back to me and enveloped me in his arms. "Never," he whispered fervently. "I swear, Bella. I will never leave you again." Wintry, desperate, pleading kisses rained over my face, and then I was kissing him back, capturing his mouth with my own, and I couldn't remember where I'd been, where I was going, where I stood, who I was, or any part of my life that wasn't this.

All too soon for my liking, Edward was pulling away, touching his forehead to mine, seeming to have nearly as much trouble controlling his breathing as I was. He nestled his face in my hair, and I clung to him with all my strength. We'd been waiting so long to be able to do that again, and I didn't want it to stop.

"Let's walk down the street instead," he finally murmured. I nodded in his chest and pulled him toward the driveway. As I turned I noticed the living room curtain swing shut.

"He saw everything, didn't he?" I asked quietly, stepping into the road and taking Edward's hand again as we passed his Volvo.

"Yes."

"Is that a bad thing?" I wanted to know.

"He's not sure," Edward said, listening. "He's conflicted. I can't make out all the emotions." He looked at me and smiled warmly. "You were great back there, do you know that? Charlie swallowed it hook, line, and sinker." The expression made me chuckle—Pop used to say that when Gran fell for one of his pranks.

"What was with him a while ago, anyway?" I asked, curious again about the strange look on my dad's face.

Edward's smile vanished. "He's worried I'll hurt you again, and that you won't be able to get through it a second time." His velvet voice was so low I almost couldn't hear it.

I inclined my head toward him. "That was…specific. I thought you couldn't hear his thoughts that well."

"I can't. He told me while you were upstairs." Edward kept his eyes on the pavement. He sounded almost ashamed. I deduced that my father must have said much more than that to invoke this reaction.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I asked timidly.

"No, love."

We walked in silence a while longer, drawing a few stares from neighbors who recognized me even through the slight drizzle in the air. I dropped my eyes to the street when they did this, took deep breaths, and repressed the urge to hiss.

Edward seemed to be doing the same thing. He dropped my hand and slid his arm securely around my shoulders; the flex of his muscles felt almost defensive.

"They're not being very polite, are they?" I mused, smiling humorlessly.

"Quite rude, actually," he confirmed. "I saw everyone staring when I was watching you at breakfast. Has it been like that for you all weekend?"

"Yeah," I answered, hoping to keep the pain in my voice to a minimum. "I'm doing my best to stay in control, but they just won't _stop._ I'm a one-woman freak show."

"I know the feeling, Bella. Better than you can imagine." His tone was bitter.

"Does it ever stop bothering you?" I wondered.

He paused to consider the question. "No. But after a while, I stopped thinking of them as people. It doesn't bother my brothers and sisters the same way it does me, though. They aren't mind-readers, and Jasper, with one notable exception," he squeezed my hand, "tends to think of humans as animals."

"I can sort of see his point," I admitted. "I don't much like being around all these narrow-minded humans myself. I can hardly wait to go back home."

Edward chuckled and shook his head before he answered. "I keep wondering when you're going to stop surprising me with your mental processes."

I shrugged and smiled at him.

"I _did_ notice a change in my perspective last year," he said, grinning back. "After I met you, I was more observant of humans in general. I'd always found their insipid thoughts tedious and unworthy of my attention. Once you came along, I noticed their potential to be more than generic, sheep-like creatures. I realized they could feel about each other the way I felt about you. Even though this understanding didn't make me less of a freak, it made them something more than my intended prey, something worth preserving. Angela in particular was always so kind, especially to you."

"Angela's the only one who hasn't treated me like a mutant," I said, thinking of this morning. She, at least, was a good person, and I'd liked spending time with her.

"You know," he said after a minute, "if you decided to officially come back, they wouldn't stare forever. They get bored easily, and they would move on to new gossip and scandal quickly."

"I'm sure they would," I answered evenly, "if there were ever any human scandals worthy of gossip in a town this small. However, as the majority of the human population remains ignorant of the mythical creature population, I'm afraid I'll be the talk of Forks for the next decade."

"You wouldn't be here that long," Edward reminded me. "Just a few months at most, just long enough to satisfy Charlie. I thought that's what you wanted."

"It was. It is." I stopped in the road and tried to sort out my feelings. "When I'm with Charlie, I feel like such a fraud. I love him, and I want to be a good daughter and make his life better, but I can't be more than a shadow of myself around him. When it's just you and me, or when I'm with the family, I feel like I'm in the right place, on the right track."

I stared up at him and was surprised to find the ancient sadness there. "Let's head back," he suggested softly. "We should start making Charlie's dinner."

"Not that I'm complaining," I said as we strolled easily together, "but why are we going back home for dinner? Did something happen?"

"I told you, Alice wants to see you," he answered, his voice just a little too carefully even.

"About what?" I asked stubbornly.

"Since when does your best friend need a reason to want to see you?" he dodged. "Besides, I was under the impression that you could use a break from all the cleaning and constant television-watching. You look exhausted." His eyes swept over my face.

"Edward," I said warningly, ignoring the slight disapproval in his tone.

"It's for Charlie, too," he said reasonably. "It wouldn't make much sense, given how close you were to Alice last year, for you not to want to see her now that you're in town."

"Oh," I said, frowning. "That's logical, I guess." What didn't make sense was why no one had mentioned it to me before, or why it had to be a dinner date at home rather than a casual visit at Charlie's. However, Edward and Charlie were tense enough with each other after a single afternoon. Perhaps Edward was trying not to upset me by saying so, but getting them away from each other for a couple of hours seemed like a good idea.

Charlie stayed in his chair frowning at the news while Edward helped me prepare his dinner. I went to some extra effort, humming as we worked, making sure Dad would have plenty of chicken for seconds, not going overboard with the salt, steaming vegetables, and boiling the rice in low-sodium chicken broth. I'd bought a low-fat cheesecake for him as well, and I placed a slice on a small plate and left it in a very visible spot in the refrigerator.

"That smells delicious," Charlie said behind me from the doorway. I turned to smile at him, and saw he looked happier than he had earlier. As with any typical male, the way to his good graces was through food.

"I hope you enjoy it," I said with a grin. "There's plenty here if you want to save some for tomorrow. Remember to put the leftovers away within two hours, or they'll go bad. Your dessert's on a plate in the fridge. I'll wash dishes when I get back, so don't worry about that."

"You're spoiling me," he smiled.

"Of course I am, Dad," I replied. "Now you wash up for dinner, young man. Have fun watching the game. I'll be back in a few hours." I patted his shoulder affectionately and started to make my way to the front door behind Edward.

"What time does your plane leave tomorrow?" Charlie asked as I passed, and I could hear the smile fade away.

"I have to be at the airport by five," I answered, hesitating in the hallway. "I would take a later flight, but I have to rest before my early shift the next day." I hated this stupid lie, the ridiculous façade that made it necessary for me to leave my father alone that much sooner instead of giving him the entire day.

"Am I still driving you there?" he asked, turning to stare at Edward.

"Of course, Dad," I said quietly, watching as the frown lines returned to his face. "Unless you don't want to."

"I want to," he replied firmly, still not looking at me.

"Okay then. I won't stay out late tonight," I reassured him.

"Good," he said, swallowing. "You kids have fun."

"Have a pleasant evening, Charlie," Edward said from the door, my backpack in his hand.

"Good night," Charlie huffed, and he walked into the kitchen.

I slipped into my shoes and jacket and called out, "Bye, Dad."

"Bye."

* * *

"So did you really want to see me about something, Alice, or is this just for show?" I kicked off my shoes and placed them in the small woven basket just inside the front door. It had taken longer than usual to get there because I'd followed Edward in my truck. He'd suggested I do so if I didn't want the old thing to die from underuse.

"Does that mean you aren't happy to see me, Bella?" Alice said playfully as she danced down the stairs to kiss my cheek.

"Ecstatic," I said, rolling my eyes before smiling at her. "Now I get to make dinner twice."

"Hardly," Esme called from the dining room. "I brought Italian take-out from Port Angeles. Alice said you'd be coming for dinner."

"Did she?" I said, turning my head to smile at her. "Thanks, Esme. I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

"Not at all," she smiled.

I went to my usual place at the table, Alice and Edward following me casually. Alice wrinkled her delicate nose at the marinara sauce. "So how's it going?" she asked. "Is Charlie happy?"

"Not entirely," I answered. "He's glad to have me home, but he's not happy about Edward being in the picture."

"That was to be expected," Edward pointed out. "He's worried about you, obviously, and jealous."

"Jealous?" I repeated incredulously. "Of you?"

"That much was perfectly clear when we left, Bella," Edward replied seriously. "You were taken away from him once already, and here I am taking you away once more."

"It's just dinner, for heaven's sake," I muttered. "He knows I'm coming right back."

"Bella, you didn't definitely agree to visit him until he told you I was in town," Edward reminded me. "He was bound to feel that way." Alice frowned thoughtfully.

"I suppose so," I said doubtfully. "I thought it was just concern for my mental health. It almost makes sense when you put it that way, but that doesn't sound like Charlie."

"Tell me about Renee," Alice said. "I know you had a fight with her. Are you going to call her back?"

I sighed. "Not tonight. I think I said enough yesterday. Honestly, what else is there for me to tell her? 'Sorry I told the truth?' I don't want to have another fight in front of Charlie. It took a lot out of him, telling off my mom like that."

"What exactly did they say?" Alice asked.

I filled her in on the details of the long, strange, draining conversation, telling her everything Renee and I had said to each other, how my mom had some silly idea that all I had to do was share her hobbies and everything would be fine, how my mother didn't ask if I still needed follow-up psychiatric care and didn't even acknowledge that what I wanted was valid, how disrespectful I eventually became, and how shocked I'd been when Charlie took my side. Esme stood near the window and listened, saying nothing for a long time.

"Bella," Esme finally spoke, and I heard the reproof in her voice, "I do hope you at least apologized to Renee for speaking to her that way. You shouldn't be so rude to your mother, even when she behaves so childishly."

"I did apologize," I said solemnly, "more than once. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, Esme. But you need to understand that my mother and I have never had a typical relationship. I don't even remember what it was like to really be a kid; I had to be the parent at the age of eight. Renee's thirty-eight years old now. She has to grow up some time."

Esme sighed. "Very well. But you were the one who didn't contact her until now. I know you've been focusing on your therapy, and I know she wouldn't have been able to understand it, but even so…" Something in her eyes seemed to momentarily _break?_ "I think you should call her again after you've both had time to calm down and get some perspective." It was clear from her tone that Esme expected me to comply with this wish.

"Yes, Esme," I said obediently. Then I looked down and smiled to myself, wondering when exactly Esme had become my parental authority and not just my loving caretaker.

We spent the next couple of hours happily enough. Alice had been trying to teach me to sing properly for the last several weeks, having discovered during my days of stereo blasting that my lungs were actually quite powerful. Though I was nowhere near as good at harmonizing as Alice, I had to admit that it was actually kind of fun to be a part of the music she and Edward made rather than a mere spectator. Edward, of course, insisted that I had a lovely voice, and I stubbornly refused to believe him, though I kept singing just the same. It was liberating in a way I had no explanation for.

At eight o'clock Edward reminded me of my promise not to stay out late. I hugged Alice and Esme goodbye, though it seemed silly to do so since I planned to return the next evening. Esme promised me Chinese take-out for tomorrow's "homecoming." Alice gave me an extra hug and asked me to be careful. I looked at her curiously, wondering if she'd had a vision, and she reminded me that though I was not quite as uncoordinated as I had been, I still wasn't indestructible, especially on Charlie's narrow stairs.

Edward drove my truck and held my hand on the way back to Charlie's. He asked me to sing again, something happy. I smiled indulgently, gave him a teasing "yes, dear," and favored him with _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ as my truck thundered down the highway and through the neighborhood.

When we arrived at Charlie's, Edward insisted on walking me inside "like a gentleman" before running to hide in the trees until later. He kept one of my hands in his, and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek at the doorstep before opening the door.

The house was very, very quiet.

The television wasn't on anymore, and I figured the game had ended. The police cruiser was still parked outside, and at first I thought perhaps Charlie had gone to bed early. It wasn't like him to leave the living room light on, though. I felt Edward carefully squeeze my hand.

"Dad?" I called out.

"In here." There was something off about his voice. It was more than just tired. I peeked around the living room wall, wondering if he was sick.

"Dad?" I said again, watching him blink several times and shake his head. "Are you okay?"

That's when I noticed the sharp, sour smell.

"Hey, Bells," he slurred.

On the small end table next to his chair was the short glass I'd seen on the kitchen table that morning. Next to it was a strangely shaped bottle. Tall, rectangular, with a narrow neck and a black label. It was nearly half of the way drained. Beside it were scraps of tiny round plastic wrappings, as if this were the first time it had been opened.

Jack Daniels.

"Didja have a nice time with that boy?" he asked, raising his voice a little more than necessary.

"Yes," I answered quietly, carefully. "His mother served ravioli. She was very happy to see me."

"'At's nice," he said, staring at the blank TV screen.

"H-how was the game?" I said timidly.

"Great," he muttered. "Seattle beat the crap outta Boston. I don't 'member the score, though."

"That's good, Dad." I kept my voice low. "Maybe they'll make it to the World Series after all." I squeezed Edward's hand. Charlie couldn't see Edward from where he sat.

"So what's the deal, Bella?" Charlie said, shifting his eyes to glare at me, his voice loud again. "You and that boy back together now, or what?"

"We're talking things over," I replied nervously. "I haven't decided anything yet."

"Oh, it looked pretty decided to me," Charlie said disdainfully, snatching his drink up in his hand. "I saw him kissing you."

I said nothing.

"You love that boy, doncha?" Mocking.

"Yes," I said simply.

"After all that hell you went through," he stated. He lifted his glass up to his mouth and swallowed the contents quickly.

I nodded twice.

"Well if that ain't the damnedest thing," he sneered. He lurched forward in his chair, trying to get up, forgetting that he had to pull the lever to lower the footrest of his recliner. Edward dropped my hand and reached out to grasp my waist. Charlie still couldn't see him.

"Dad, just lay back and relax," I suggested softly, my breath beginning to come faster. "You don't have to get up. I'll go clean the kitchen."

"What the hell for?" Charlie said angrily, shifting around in his seat oddly, trying to work the reclining mechanism. "It'll just get messy again tomorrow after you leave me."

"Don't get up, Dad," I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice. "Don't worry about a thing. Just stay there and get some rest."

"Don't tell me what to do, Bella!" Charlie shouted, glaring up at me again. "I'm your father. This is _my_ house! You don't tell me what to do in my house. You don't even _live_ here!"

"Please, Dad," I said quietly, so he wouldn't hear my voice tremble. "I just want you to feel better."

"Feel better?" he shouted again. "I'm s'posed to feel better when you're throwing yourself at that damn boy like a worm on a hook?" He finally managed to straighten his seat, a little of his drink swirling in his glass.

"Dad, it's not like that," I whispered, my heart pounding. "He loves me."

"He _loves_ you!" Charlie yelled sarcastically, struggling to his feet. "He trots off to a fancy prep school while you're stuck in a damned hospital for six weeks. He can go to any college he wants while you're stuck with whatever com-commutey college takes you. You wouldn't come home for me, but you come home for that damn mop-headed kid. What the hell is it with you and this guy? He leaves, and it's like you're dead. He comes back, and everything's all hunky-dory?"

Edward gripped my waist firmly with both hands now.

"I told you, it was a misunderstanding, Daddy," I whimpered shakily.

Charlie towered over his chair. "That's bullshit, Bella. It's a four-hour fuckin' drive from here to his prissy little school, and he never showed up. I want you to forget him, just like he forgot you."

_I'll make you forget that boy's name._

I became very, very still. My weight shifted to the lower half of my body, and I felt a flow of air rising to my throat, a hiss. My hand twitched toward the knife in my pocket.

_No_. This was my father. I took a deep breath, forcing the hiss back down.

"Please, Charlie," I said in choppy monotone. "Sit down before you fall."

He lurched forward, pointing at me with the hand still holding his drink. "_Stop telling me what to do, damn it!_"

Edward yanked me back between himself and the front door, spreading his arms out defensively.

Charlie swore at me viciously. "_Get back in here!_" I heard heavy, staggering footsteps and the sound of glass shattering against the wall by the doorway. Some of the shards landed in the place where I'd just been standing.

There was a loud thump.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Charlie cried weakly. His voice came from the floor. "I didn't mean to." I heard him grunting, trying to get back up.

"Stay where you are, Charlie," I called out, my voice smoother than it had been. Lower. "Everything will be fine, but you have to stay still."

"You still love me, doncha, Bells?" he asked from the floor. "Please, tell me you love me."

_I love it when you fight back._

"I love you, Charlie," I said, voice flat, one hand on Edward's shoulder, the other hand in my pocket, clutching my knife.

"Say it like you mean it," he begged angrily, still struggling to get up.

"I do mean it," I said, trying to infuse my cold voice with some emotion. I slid the knife out from my pocket. "I love you."

"More than you love him?" he demanded.

"I love you, Charlie." I could not make myself sound like I did. My thumb eased to the metal nub that would swing the blade open. "Please go to sleep now. We can talk about it in the morning."

"But you're leaving me tomorrow," he whined. The sharp fragments shone up at me from the floor.

"My plane doesn't leave until later," I replied calmly, focusing my attention on the weight of the object in my hand. "We'll have plenty of time to talk. Please, just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Okay, honey," he mumbled. He'd stopped struggling. "I'm 'sleep now. Just tell me you love me one more time."

I said nothing.

Edward did not relax his position. I waited quietly, still touching his shoulder. I flicked open my knife and held it securely, blade pointing at the floor. Edward shook his head and gently held my wrist, making sure I didn't do anything I'd regret.

A minute later I heard Charlie slump over again. He began to snore.

Edward straightened, but his muscles were bunched, coiled. He moved to stand guard in the living room doorway, his face never leaving my father's sleeping figure, and he seemed to lock himself into place. "Call someone to help," he said in a strained voice, as though he were struggling with something.

Listening to my father snore one more time, I prowled to the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed. Billy's number had been written on the wallpaper for nearly two decades and had never changed. I closed my knife and slid it back into my pocket.

One ring.

Two rings.

"Hello?" A scratchy, youngish voice answered. Jacob.

"Jake, it's Bella. Where's Billy?"

"He's right here. What's wrong? Where are you? Are you still at Charlie's?" Alert. Concerned. Ready.

"It's Charlie. He's drunk. I came back from dinner and he'd downed at least a fifth of whiskey. You need to get down here and help."

A deep intake of breath. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Edward's been here with me. Charlie threw a glass at me, and Edward pulled me out of the way."

A threatening growl. "That leech better not—"

"Focus, Jake!" I shouted. "My _dad_ just tried to give me a face full of glass and passed out on the living room floor. Get Billy and get over here before he wakes up again!"

A muffling sound. Jake's voice talking to someone else in the room. "We'll be there in ten minutes. Tell your leech to stay outside in the back yard when we get there. I don't want a fight."

"Got it."

Click.

I hung up and tip-toed back to Edward, who was hissing angrily into his phone at inhuman speed. "Who was that?" I asked after he snapped the phone shut.

"Alice," he replied stonily. "Remember when I told you what happens when we mingle our destinies with wolves? She became frantic when our futures vanished. I had to convince her not to come here and incite a brawl."

"So you heard everything, then," I whispered.

"Yes," he answered, still watching my father. "I would have preferred it if you'd called someone else."

"Billy's number was the first thing I saw when I got to the phone. He's Charlie's best friend; at least I know he'll keep this quiet."

Edward looked as though he had further arguments, probably about the dangers of young werewolves, but instead he nodded. "I'll wait until they arrive before I go outside."

"Don't go far, Edward."

"Believe me, I won't."

I stayed behind him, threw my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his back. I inhaled several times, willing myself to remain calm and my heart to remain steady.

"How are you?" Edward asked, his voice gentler now.

"I've been better," I answered honestly. "But I've been worse, too."

"Are you scared?"

"Not for me." My voice didn't tremble anymore.

"For Charlie?" he asked, astounded.

"Yes. I've never seen him like this."

"I'm sorry you had to see this, Bella." He really meant it, I thought.

"I wonder how long this has been going on," I mused.

"That bottle was brand new," he observed.

We stayed quiet for another minute.

"Did Alice see this coming, Edward?"

He hesitated. "Yes. That's why I came inside with you. He was supposed to be asleep."

"No, I mean did she see this earlier? Is that why you wanted me to come for dinner?"

Edward sighed. "She said it was a possibility. Charlie's been battling with this all weekend." He paused a moment. "I had no idea he'd go _this_ far." He was barely able to contain his revulsion.

"That's why the glass was on the table this morning," I said, mostly to myself. "It was dusty, though, like he hadn't used it." Then my voice hardened. "She knew. You both knew he'd do this, and you got me out of the house so he'd have the chance to get wasted." The manipulation would have stung a lot worse if I weren't still so thunderstruck by my father's behavior.

"If he didn't do it today, he was going to do it after you left tomorrow," Edward stated matter-of-factly. "I wanted him to prove Alice wrong, but…"

But he didn't.

I thought about this and peeked around Edward's arm at my father, prostrate and pathetic on the floor. "So this is what he'll be if I don't stay with him," I murmured.

"We can't be absolutely certain," Edward said, softly now. "But yes, Alice thinks this is what his future will be like without some form of intervention. He's in too much pain."

Pain.

I knew pain.

My eyes flickered to the half-full bottle still on the narrow end table.

How simple it must have seemed, how tempting, to simply pour out the light brown liquid like medicinal water into a small glass, to pull at it over and over in an attempt to dull the ache. And yet, instead of eliminating the anger and depression, it had only enhanced those emotions. There were people who could drink recreationally and not suffer so. Charlie was not one of them. With a pang at my heart, I realized Charlie meant to use the alcohol as his own form of haze, just like mine. My haze hadn't healed me, either. I couldn't let him do this to himself.

Edward sniffed, and I could almost hear his nose wrinkle in disgust. "They're here."

"How many?" I asked, my hand twitching toward my knife again.

"Just Jacob and Billy." I relaxed my hand. "They don't mean you any harm, but I'll stay close enough to keep you safe. Just keep your distance from the wolf and don't behave aggressively."

"Got it."

Edward turned and wrapped himself around me, holding me close to his stone body. I felt him kiss his favorite spot on my head. "I love you, Bella. I am so, so sorry."

"I love you, Edward. Thank you for being here with me."

There was a whisper of air, and he was gone.

I sighed and turned away from Charlie to answer the loud knock at the door.


	16. Choices

Chapter 16 Choices

_We must make the choices that enable us to fulfill the deepest capacities of our real selves._

~Thomas Merton

"He's out like a light," Jake said, pausing in the middle of the stairs. "Sorry, but there's a mess in your bathroom. I can go clean it up if you want."

I had already swept up the larger pieces of glass and was mopping the rest off the floor with a wet dish towel, hoping there were no fragments left to stab me later when I took my shoes off again. The wall and part of the couch still smelled of sour mash, the eighty-proof Tennessee whiskey with which my father had come close to destroying himself. Over me.

Billy sat across the room from where I worked, watching me sadly. He hadn't said anything directly to me yet other than to ask if I was hurt. I had only shaken my head at him.

"I'll clean it later," I said quietly to Jacob, finishing my work. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me."

"You okay?" Billy asked. I nodded and threw the dish towel in the small wastebasket next to me.

I carried the trash can across the room to Charlie's end table and stared once more at the thing sitting on the flat surface; I'd already memorized every word printed on the label—1.75 liters, of which nearly half was gone. I picked up the bits of plastic that had been wrapped around the bottle lid, throwing them in with the glass and letting the whole thing drop to the floor. "I think this was a brand new bottle." For some reason I kept repeating that information, even to myself, as if it would somehow excuse what had happened or make it more bearable. "I don't know where he kept it. I didn't see it when I was cleaning the kitchen this morning."

I held very still while Jacob walked into the living room. He sat on the furthest end of the couch, eyeing me speculatively as he did so.

"What did he do?" Billy asked.

Suddenly very tired, I exhaled loudly, sat down in Charlie's recliner, and slid out of my shoes.

"He got mad about Edward and about my leaving tomorrow. He threw his glass at me and cursed me. He fell over. He begged me to say 'I love you.' Then he passed out." I sounded almost robotic to my own ears.

"You must've been scared," Billy said.

Something like that.

"I wasn't sure what he was going to do," I told them. "I was trying to calm him down and get him to go to sleep."

"Would you like to stay at our house for the night?" Billy offered kindly. "Jake can stay here and watch Charlie for you."

There was no way Edward would ever allow that. Nor did I think the rest of the pack was likely to be very pleased if I showed up unannounced, smelling of their enemy.

"I'll be fine," I answered. "Hopefully he'll sleep it off. If not, I have a safe place to go."

Jacob snorted.

"What did Edward do?" Billy asked calmly. He was well aware that Edward was outside.

"He stayed out of sight the whole time," I answered truthfully, "and he pulled me out of the way before Charlie's glass hit me. He stayed to protect me in case Charlie tried anything else, and he asked me to call for help."

"He didn't even touch Charlie," Jacob observed. "There's no vampire smell on him."

My gaze flickered to Jacob as he spoke. "You sound surprised."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I figured he'd lose it and hurt your dad, maybe kill him." I rolled my eyes. As if young, unstable werewolves were any better.

"Well he didn't," I said flatly, too exhausted to yell. "He's not the bloodthirsty killer you thought he was. Satisfied?"

"Yes, actually," Jacob said, nonplussed.

I made an exasperated noise and laid my head back against the seat, staring almost straight up. "He's not a monster, Jacob. He's a good man who tries to be something better than what he is."

"He's not a saint, Bella," Jacob retorted. "He wants to turn you into a bloodsucker like him."

"Don't be stupid. He'd have done it already." I kept my voice level so he'd stay calm. After this never-ending day, it wasn't even hard to do.

"He's screwing with your mind to make you want it."

"He's been refusing me for a solid year."

"You've been _asking_ for it that long?"

"Not lately. I've been trying to get well enough to see Charlie again, remember?" I reminded him.

Jacob stayed quiet a minute, digesting our conversation. My mind was drawing blanks.

"How did you find out what the Cullens are?" Billy asked after a few more minutes. His tone was not disrespectful like his son's had been.

I did not look away from the spot on the ceiling that served as my focal point. My voice was still flat. "I was already curious about them, and then Jacob broke the treaty and told me."

"I didn't know it was true!" Jacob exclaimed defensively.

"It doesn't matter, Jacob," Billy cut him off, sounding angry and worried. "The treaty is clear."

"They still didn't attack your tribe," I pointed out. "They're not evil. They didn't choose to be vampires, and they've chosen not to be murderers."

"But you want to choose that life," Jacob huffed.

"Edward and I love each other. I want the choice and the opportunity to be with my soul mate, to be his equal. Is that so wrong?" I didn't know how we got on this topic, but it was irritating having to explain and defend my life choices at a time like this.

"Your soul mate," Jacob spat sarcastically. "He's not a man, and he doesn't love you." An odd burn flashed across my body when he said that, and I twitched a little. Jacob didn't appear to have noticed. "Look at what that leech did to you! You look like hell, you had to hide from your father for months so you wouldn't wake up trying to kill him—you admitted that weeks ago, so don't deny it—and now you're defending a bunch of life-sucking vampires!"

"Jake…" Billy warned.

I glared at Jacob, seething with indignation. I'd had enough vitriol for one day and could stand no more. "_Humans_ did this to me, you blind little fool," I hissed. "Humans tortured me and turned me into what I am now. If I'd gone to a better hospital, maybe I would have had a chance to recover from my grief, or maybe not, but I am literally scarred for life because two humans chose to be monsters. Look at me, it's May and I'm wearing long sleeves and make-up on my neck so the world won't see what happened to me, so Charlie won't find out and wind up even worse than he was tonight. The only reason I'm able to sit here and carry on a conversation, the only reason I didn't _stab_ my _father_ tonight, the only reason I'm not dead or being raped with a…" I looked away for a moment, shut my eyes, and took a deep, calming breath. I heard Billy gasp a little.

"The only reason I'm alive and not completely psychotic," I continued in a less irate tone, "is because those vampires have committed themselves to healing my soul. So don't you sit there all 'holier than thou' and tell me the only way to be a good person is to be a human, _Jacob_. Real life already taught me otherwise."

Jacob and Billy sat quietly, looking from me to each other and back again.

"You call yourselves protectors, Jake," I said evenly. "I remember that. And you did protect my father and me from those other vampires who wanted revenge against me. I haven't forgotten, and I'll never be able to thank you enough.

"But now you and that damn _treaty_ are trying to protect me from the wrong things. _These_ vampires, these people, the Cullens…they love me, and I love them. I'm not asking you to like it, or to like them or even me. I'm asking you not to start a war and get half your pack and half of my family killed over your prejudice. I won't have any more death on my hands."

Jacob looked at his father a long moment, and then gazed at me. There was something close to kindness there. "Okay, Bella. I'll talk to Sam."

"Thanks," I said, and closed my eyes, sighing loudly. "I guess I'd better start cleaning up the rest of the house."

I opened my eyes and checked my watch.

10:04 P.M.

Saturday

May 15

Barely a whole thirty-six hours had passed since I'd met Charlie at the airport, and already my life was upside down. Again.

"Are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Billy asked, his concern genuine as he wheeled himself to the door behind Jacob. He stopped when he saw the gun belt hanging from its peg and reached up to pull Charlie's .45 out of the holster. I watched intently as he released the clip, checked the chamber for a bullet, and unsnapped the spare clip from Charlie's belt, depositing all the ammunition in his front pocket.

"I'm sure," I answered softly, wondering if Billy was hiding the bullets from Charlie or from me. Both Charlie and I knew where the rifle, shotguns, and shells were stored, and I'd been taught how to use them since the age of twelve, so Billy's precaution meant little. Besides, I wasn't alone. "Edward will be with me. I'll be safe."

Billy nodded as though that might actually be an acceptable answer. Jacob gave me a grim smile. "Your father and I are going to have a talk," Billy announced gruffly. "This behavior is unacceptable, and he goddamn well knows it."

I felt a brief rush of panic. "Please, don't tell him about the hospital, I don't want him to—"

"Don't worry, I won't. I understand why you'd rather keep that private. In fact…no one would blame you," the older man said quietly, "if you decided not to come home after this."

I looked at the door meaningfully. "I'll think about it."

"Good night then, Bella," Billy said dysphorically.

"'Night, Bella," Jacob whispered as he tugged his father's wheelchair down the porch steps.

"Good night, guys. Thanks again."

I shut the door behind them and pressed my forehead to the wood. There was a soft rush of air behind me, bringing with it the smell of rain and sweetness.

"Bella? Are you all right, love?" The velvet voice swam with concern.

I shook my head, and two marble-smooth hands turned me around carefully and pulled me into a cold embrace. Tears suddenly poured out of me, and I clung to my protector, my comforter, my best friend, my dearest love. He pressed his face into my hair and simply held me for a long time, supporting my weight, supporting me.

Eventually I pulled away and checked my watch. It was nearly midnight, and I still had so much work to do. "I'd better start on the bathroom first," I said faintly. "That's going to smell the worst in the morning."

"No, I'll do it, Bella. I can hold my breath. Please sit down; you're dead on your feet." His soft, baritone voice was very persuasive. I nodded and walked droopily to the recliner.

Edward picked up my glass-filled waste bin and disappeared. I stared at my father's end table sleepily. The square-based, rectangular-bodied bottle was still sitting there. Shining.

I stood up, grabbed the bottle, and marched to the kitchen.

Charlie had eaten a little food, but he hadn't bothered to put the rest of the leftovers away. I sat the bottle in the exact midpoint of the table and started my clean-up. I scraped sadly with a spatula across the nearly full pans as I emptied their contents into the garbage can. The hot water ran in the sink, building up steam before I stopped the drain and added dish soap. I worked in disjointed, jerky motions, my eyes not focused on anything. Submerge skillet. Scour skillet. Move skillet to other side of sink. Rinse skillet. Place skillet on dish towel. Submerge rice pot. Scour. Rinse. Dish towel. Submerge. Scour. Rinse. Towel. Submerge…

Edward appeared at my side, fresh raindrops in his hair, carrying the now empty wastebasket that smelled of bleach. He set it down on the floor and gently pulled me away from the sink, sitting me down in a dining chair. I didn't blink or really look at anything, just sat and breathed, occasionally catching myself nodding off. Edward finished the dishes quickly and turned to look at me.

"Bella?" he sounded slightly afraid.

I realized I must look like I was in a haze. My head jerked once in a silent, mirthless chuckle. "Yeah," I half-whispered, half-croaked.

I saw his face close to mine, assessing me.

"Don't worry, Edward," I murmured. "I'm right here. I'm just so damn tired."

"Let me take you home." It was almost a plea.

I ached to say yes. "We can't leave him."

Without another word, Edward scooped me up and carried me up the stairs to my old room. He swaddled me in my quilt and laid me down against his chest on my bed, one arm holding me to him, exactly the same way he'd lain me across his body on his leather couch months ago after I'd run wild, trying to escape. He hummed my lullaby and smoothed out my hair over and over.

All night long I dreamed of my father throwing dagger-like shards at me while Jimmy gripped my arms and leered at me lustfully and McCoig laughed in my face, burning me with carved, fiery rocks. I woke screaming and hissing again the next morning, and I didn't care if Charlie heard me or not, if he caught Edward with me or not. Edward just held me, not leaving my side for a moment.

Charlie never came in to check on me as I shrieked, though I did hear a loud groan followed by his bedroom door slamming shut. The snoring renewed with a vengeance. Once Edward had helped me calm down again and I'd showered and changed, I refused Edward's quiet entreaties to leave and instead used the time to silently deliberate and plot.

I had told Renee that I didn't have the energy to take care of her anymore. And I didn't, really, because she required prodigious amounts of reassurance, coddling, and supervision. Much like I had in recent months, I mused. But Renee had Phil now. Clinging to me was something she did out of habit. She was happy where she was and didn't really need me anymore.

Charlie, on the other hand, was clearly in rough shape. I had thought, after his outburst with Renee, that Charlie's fear for me was the greatest problem, that loneliness was secondary. Perhaps I'd been wrong about that. There was no telling how long ago he'd purchased that liquor, how long he'd wrestled with this. I had certainly never seen him drink before, but under the custody arrangement I'd grown up with, I'd never seen Charlie more than a month or two out of the year—_even less when I turned fourteen and refused to come to Forks anymore, not even for Christmas_—so the only thing I knew for sure was that he didn't drink when I stayed with him. Edward hadn't seemed absolutely certain that this was the first time Charlie had imbibed, which meant Alice probably didn't know, either. In a corner of my mind I wondered why she would not have been sure about this. Was her foresight occupied with something else? Was it something that had happened before she'd ever met him?

I didn't have the luxury of worrying too much about what else Alice might have on her mind when I had my own crosses to bear. Renee did not need me, but Charlie did, whether I was ready or not. I couldn't let him fall into a half-life because of my weaknesses. I'd hurt him enough.

I sat up and told Edward my plan. He objected, of course; Edward was concerned about any risk to my safety, now more than ever. We argued for a long time, but once it became clear that I would not be moved, he relented uneasily. Obviously he was not done debating, and I expected to hear further protests later. I asked him to go home to get his car for appearances and knock on my door in an hour—alone. I knew it wouldn't take him that long to retrieve his vehicle, and he'd be watching my house from the trees no matter where his car was. He was reluctant to leave even for a few minutes but agreed to call home and ask someone to bring his Volvo so he could wait outside until the appointed time.

After Edward let himself out, I slid my knife into the pocket of my fresh pair of jeans. I had covered my scars with a turtle-neck shirt today, not wanting to bother with make-up.

I grabbed a bottle of aspirin from the bathroom medicine cabinet and padded down the stairs to the empty kitchen to make coffee. My understanding of hangover cures was limited to what I'd seen on television, so I had no idea if Charlie would feel well enough to want food. I did recall, as if from a thousand years ago, some of the kids at school in Phoenix claiming that their fathers went to Mexican restaurants on Sunday mornings to eat _menudo_—tripe soup flavored with pig feet and a ton of chili powder—as a hangover remedy. Much as I would have loved to serve Charlie spicy cow entrails and pig knuckles, I could hardly find anything like that in the middle of Forks. I settled for a very late breakfast of eggs and toast; Charlie did not deserve pancakes. I made sure to bang the pan around on the stove as I cooked and to slam the refrigerator door as loud as possible.

Charlie staggered down the stairs, holding a wet washcloth to his forehead. He appeared to have showered, at least, but the stench of alcohol sweating out of his body was overwhelming. I hoped he wasn't still a little drunk, but I was ready for anything.

"Breakfast is ready, Charlie," I said sternly. "Come sit down." He moaned but complied. I smacked his plate on the table, poured coffee into his mug, and slammed the aspirin bottle down beside his fork. I sat across from him with my own breakfast and ate quickly. The bottle of Jack Daniels stood on the table between us.

"Bells," he began weakly.

"Bella," I corrected him. "My name is _Bella_." He sighed and made as if to speak again, but I stopped him. "Eat first," I commanded. "Then we'll talk."

Charlie did not argue. He swallowed two aspirin, shoveled food in his mouth listlessly, drank his black, sugarless coffee, and held his washcloth to his head, trying to open his eyes as little as possible. When he'd swallowed the last of his food I took our dishes and set them in the sink without washing them. I checked my watch. Edward would arrive in precisely ten minutes.

"Charlie," I said, watching him carefully, maintaining a firm, authoritative tone. "Was this your first time?"

He stayed quiet for several seconds before answering. "No."

"I see. Do you have any more?"

"No," he sighed. I had more questions on that topic, but I decided to save them for another time.

"Would you care to explain what the hell was wrong with you last night?"

"I was drunk. I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I know you were drunk, Charlie. I want to know why." It was possible, I told myself, that he'd started drinking for one reason but got upset about something else when he saw me come in.

"You're leaving today," he whispered, "and you won't tell me where." I knew that look on his face, the same one he'd worn over a year ago, when I'd been on the run from James and had to hurt him so he wouldn't follow me: _you're leaving me, just like Renee._

But I wasn't Renee.

"And you thought _this_ would make me tell you?" I replied, my eyebrow risen in disbelief as I gestured at the half-empty bottle. When he didn't answer, I pressed on. "You can't expect me to believe you polished off all that liquor just because I wouldn't tell you the name of the Podunk town I'm living in. Not once did I give you the impression that this was anything other than a simple visit, which, by the way, wasn't _finished_ yet. Tell me the real reason you did this when you _knew_ I was coming back here at the end of the night."

Charlie was quiet for a few more seconds. "You took off with Edward," he answered, his face turning red as he spat the name.

Of all the things for Edward to be right about…

"I just went to his parents' house for dinner," I stated coldly. "I was only gone for a few hours. What happened to letting me make my own decisions?"

"You forgave him." It sounded like a criminal accusation.

"That's a bad thing?"

"He hurt you, and you forgave him." His eyes may have been incredulous, but it was hard to tell; they were still bloodshot.

"You threw your glass at my head last night and called me some very bad names," I reminded him, "and I'm sure you'd like me to forgive you, too."

Charlie lowered his face into both hands, and the venom left his voice. "I don't remember it too well."

"I do," I said emotionlessly. "I called Billy and Jake to come drag you upstairs and into bed. I had to pick up the glass that almost became part of my face. Edward cleaned your vomit from the bathroom floor."

"Oh god," he moaned remorsefully. "Did I hurt you?"

"That's a hell of a thing to ask me _now_, don't you think?" I didn't let myself sound angry—anger would only arm him.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he groaned.

"I know." I considered how best to phrase what I was about to say before opening my mouth—if I said this, it had to be true. "I think I can forgive you."

Charlie peeked up at me. "Really?"

"I can try, at least," I amended. I owed him that much. "But that doesn't mean I trust you, and it doesn't mean there aren't consequences." I let that sit.

He was quiet another minute, following his random thoughts. "You had a nightmare. I heard you this morning."

"It was about you."

I heard a loud knock at the door. Charlie grimaced in pain. "That's Edward. Stay right there."

I stalked to the front door and whisked it open, took Edward's hand, and led him back to the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind me. Charlie groaned again.

"Have a seat, Edward," I said gently, pulling him down into the chair next to mine. I turned to Charlie and resumed my voice of authority. "Charlie, you have two choices. You can empty that bottle, never buy another one, and I'll move back in with you and finish school here. Or you can keep that bottle, I'll disappear, and you'll probably drink yourself out of a career and into an early grave."

Charlie eyed Edward uneasily. "What's he got to do with it?" Edward gazed back at him harshly and did not blink.

"He's going to be with me either way." I knew this like I knew the sun would rise.

"Bella, I know you're an adult now, but…" Charlie started to argue.

"This is not a negotiation, Charlie," I interrupted, using his own words against him. "Edward and I are a package deal. You will have to accept that."

"And if I don't?" He looked into my face, searching.

"Then I'll go pack my suitcase," I said evenly.

"Bella, that's not fair."

"Do not talk to me about _fair_, Charlie," I snapped, my cool exterior slipping for a moment. "There is no 'fair.' This is my life, and it is what it is. The only choice you have to make is whether or not you want to be part of it."

"You know I want you to stay," he complained.

"Then choose," I said tersely.

Charlie cast Edward an ugly look. "You're the reason for all of this."

"I didn't buy that bottle, Charlie," Edward replied smoothly, controlling his tone, "and I didn't pour it down your throat. I know what I'm to blame for, and it's not what you did last night."

Charlie grimaced and closed his eyes. "Bella, if he leaves you again, you'll wind up back in that hospi—"

"I will _never_ leave Bella again," Edward said sharply, causing Charlie's eyes to rip open in surprise. "Nor will I become inebriated and assault her." Only I heard the implicit threat in his voice, saw it in the set of his mouth and the flare of his golden irises, and what's more, felt the root cause humming just under his skin: _fear_. I placed a pleading hand on his leg under the table. His features relaxed slightly.

Charlie's face contorted in a mixture of shame and fury. "I didn't mean to, Bella."

"You didn't _accidentally_ launch your glass at her head," Edward hissed. "You may _regret_ it today, but that doesn't—"

"Edward, stop." I cut him off quickly, clenching my fingers around his knee for emphasis before he could rile Charlie up. To Charlie, I said, "Whether you meant to or not, it doesn't change what happened. And it doesn't change the decision you have to make now."

Charlie shook his head slightly, winced at the pain of it, and grew still.

"Is it really so hard to choose me over a bottle of whiskey?" I asked, truly wanting to know.

"No, no, it's not that," Charlie tried to reassure me. "I just don't want this boy in your life."

"This man is already in my life," I informed him. "Are you?"

Charlie sighed. "I don't like this."

"I didn't ask you to like it. I asked you to accept reality."

"Bella, you need to agree to some terms, some ground rules…" he tried.

"No, I don't," I declared. "You gave up your right to ask for terms. I will pull my own weight around the house. I will do chores and cook like I did all weekend—you're obviously not going to do it yourself, and I refuse to live in squalor. I will even be home at what I deem a reasonable hour on school nights. But you have no say in any of that. You do not make the rules for me anymore."

"Bella, I'm your father," Charlie tried to reason. Under my palm, I felt the soundless rumble of Edward's self-contained growl, but I ignored it and met Charlie's eyes as I spoke.

"That's the only reason I'm still sitting here."

Charlie glanced at the bottle between us a moment, then focused on Edward, then on me. He did not move for several minutes, and we did not speak.

Finally I exhaled and stood up. Edward rose as well, and we turned to the kitchen doorway. _Goodbye, Charlie._

"Wait."

We stopped and turned at the same moment.

Very slowly, with obvious head pain hindering his progress, Charlie grabbed the bottle and stood up. I watched as he trudged noisily to the sink, twisted off the black bottle cap, and inverted the bottle. The small kitchen filled with the biting, repugnant odor. When the bottle was completely empty, Charlie turned slowly to the garbage can and let the bottle drop inside it.


	17. Disintegration

Disclaimer: still applies

Special thanks to Shari and Sherry for advice and encouragement. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

_**A/N:** New posting schedule. I will update on Mondays now, which is what I've been doing the last few weeks anyway._

_**Music:** "With or Without You" by U2, "A Long December" by Counting Crows, "I Was Broken" by Rob Pattinson, "Colorblind" by Counting Crows_

* * *

Chapter 17 Disintegration

_If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life._

~Oscar Wilde

In keeping with my illusion, I left Charlie's house at the prearranged time to head for the "airport." I insisted that Edward drive me so that Charlie could rest. Billy, after a fruitless attempt at asking me to reconsider my decision to move back, agreed to come spend the evening with Charlie and look after him for me. He had to bring back the handgun clips anyway, and I told him where Edward hid the rest of the ammunition for the other firearms and where I stashed the car keys. Charlie looked worried when I announced I was leaving, but I reassured him that I would return tomorrow, that I had to retrieve the rest of my things and tie up loose ends. No more "job," no more "night school."

And no more roommates. That was the hardest part for me. When I had a few minutes alone in Charlie's bathroom I took deep breaths and tried not to cry. It was silly, I told myself. I would visit all the time. It wasn't that long of a drive to the house, especially when Edward was the one driving. Edward, Alice, and I would be together nearly every day at school now that Edward and I were both "transferring," and Edward would probably be at my house every night. Charlie would not stop me from visiting the Cullens no matter how much he disliked the situation. And being able to take care of Charlie was what I'd been working toward all this time, so it should not be such a hard thing to move back and fulfill that wish.

But no matter how I tried to turn it over in my mind, to look at the bright side and find the optimism, I was still dejected. My relationship with Charlie had changed overnight, and returning to him was now more of an obligation than a dream come true. I had been building a life all these long months, becoming part of a family, falling in love with each one of them in different ways, even Rosalie. Not sharing a home with them anymore was painful.

The Cullen house was the only haven I had, the place where I'd been nurtured and cared for all these long months of my strange, new life. I almost smiled at the irony of it, that a giant mansion full of vampires, one of whom had actually tried to attack me the previous year, felt safer to me than a tiny house with my own father, who'd never tried to hurt me until last night, and certainly hadn't meant to kill me. But Charlie wasn't a vampire constantly striving to be something better than his nature. He was supposed to be my dad; he wasn't supposed to _need _to resist some dormant, alcohol-induced urge to hurt me, especially not over a _boy_. I had forgiven him to some degree because I pitied him, and because I wanted to offer him the same chance for mercy, compassion, and redemption that I had offered Edward, and because I would want Charlie to do the same for me. But I didn't know how to look at him the same way anymore.

Edward was, to put it mildly, outraged about Charlie. He may have expected to find Charlie drunk and passed out, or possibly even depressed, but the violence and extreme vulgarity directed at me had shocked and appalled him. He hadn't really explained it yet, but I supposed it had been something Alice simply wasn't able to predict—I couldn't see Edward allowing me to walk through that door if Alice had known Charlie might behave the way he had. I had not understood until our morning conversation just how livid and wrathful Edward had felt the night before, how it had taken every ounce of his control to do no more than hover protectively in front of me. This, I concluded, was the reason he'd asked me to call for assistance after Charlie passed out—Edward must not have trusted himself to handle Charlie. Though this frightened me a little, it also filled me with a strange kind of satisfaction and pride; I'd been absolutely right when defending Edward against Jacob's accusations.

Edward also expressed his displeasure that I didn't take the out Billy had given me, the reassurance that nobody—meaning the tribal council and the pack—would judge me too harshly for not returning to my father's house.

"Damn it, Bella!" Edward shouted in frustration on the way home after his reiterated arguments fell on deaf ears. "You can't stay with Charlie! Even Billy doesn't want you there, and he's Charlie's closest friend—that alone should tell you something. He's also the head of his tribe, and he's giving you a free pass to stay away. Don't you understand what that means?" I felt his eyes on me, but I did not return the gaze. "We can leave whenever you want. We can get away from here, and we can stay together for the rest of your life."

I wasn't fool enough to think it would be that simple, and I was still trying to prevent the inherent hostilities from escalating into physical conflict. I tried to explain this to him, but I was tired, and my voice didn't come out quite as forcefully as I wanted. "Don't be naïve, Edward. You honestly think that just because Billy says I don't have to stay with Charlie means the pack won't mind my continued residence with seven vampires? They still hate our family, and they still have that treaty to uphold. That means they need to be able to check on me, make sure I'm still human. I just have to stay long enough for this façade to look plausible, and then we can say I'm going away to college or something. It's the only way to keep the wolves away and keep everyone safe from a war." That was supposed to be the plan, wasn't it?

"Never mind those damn dogs," he said dismissively, waving his hand at the windshield as if preventing war and death was not relevant. "This is about you. I refuse to allow you to risk your safety this way. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, Bella." It was essentially the same case he'd made this morning, only louder. His voice broke with pain when he said my name.

"I thought the point of letting me see Charlie drunk was to help me understand why I need to come back sooner rather than later." I couldn't even work up enough feeling to be as mad as I should have been about Alice not warning me in advance. It was done, and it was effective.

"That was before I realized your father turns into an _angry_ drunk," Edward countered, low and almost growling.

"He promised he'd stop," I said adamantly. "I told you I won't stay if he's going to continue drinking."

"I still don't like it, Bella. Your father could easily stop at the bar on the way from work and come home intoxicated and violent. Even if he doesn't have his pistol with him, even if you have your knife and a can of pepper spray, he's still large enough to overpower you." He sounded so protective, almost afraid.

"You could hurt me, Edward," I pointed out. "But you don't."

He sighed heavily. "I have the control to choose not to. The way I feel about you overpowers everything else, including my thirst. Charlie loves you…I suppose…but he's a completely different person when he gets drunk."

I looked at my hands. "He's still my father, Edward. I know things will never be the same, and I know I won't ever feel one hundred percent safe there anymore, but I have to do this."

"You don't have to put yourself in danger," he insisted, sounding desperate. "Haven't you been through enough already?"

I shut my eyes stubbornly. "I have to do this for him. I can't be selfish anymore."

"Bella, it's not selfish to protect yourself," he argued.

"I know that, Edward. That's why I need your help." I turned to look at him. The trees flew past his window, a great blur of green, as we sped home. Even in irritation, his beauty took my breath away, and my words burned with excessive fervor. "I need you to be with me."

It went beyond merely needing his physical protection, his assistance in my charade, or even his moral support. I needed _Edward_, plain and simple. For five minutes, five years, five centuries. More than anything in my wretched, screwed up life, I needed this man, needed to love him and be loved in return. I wanted to do the selfless thing, care for my father, be a good person, but I couldn't do it alone.

Realizing that I wasn't merely speaking of my safety anymore, Edward's face softened. "I will always be with you." He brushed my cheek lightly. "I can't exist without you."

I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his hand. "Take me home," I said in a small voice.

Alice was completely infuriated with me.

"Why would you call those mongrels instead of us?" she shrieked as Edward helped me out of the car. "Have we not made it clear how dangerous they are? I was already headed to Forks when the future disappeared. You could have both been killed! What were you thinking?"

_I was trying not to kill Charlie, Alice._

"I guess I wasn't thinking, Alice," I answered in monotone. I slid my eyes past her and looked at the forest reflected across the back of the house. "If you'll excuse me, I really don't want to talk to you about this right now."

"Bella—" she started to screech, but Edward stepped between us, towering over her. I couldn't see his face or hers, and I found I didn't particularly care what they were hissing about. I trudged past them both toward the back door set in the window wall.

Only one person was home besides Alice. Esme was ready with a pot of tea—Alice must have told her we were on the way—and she sat near me on the couch, watching me carefully as I stared blankly at the television and sipped at my drink.

"Carlisle?" I asked her.

"You missed him by twenty minutes. He wanted to stay home with you…or go pay Charlie a visit," she added darkly, "but Dr. Snow is out sick with bronchitis, and they need an ER doctor." She seemed to be choosing her next words carefully. "He's absolutely furious."

I'd never seen Carlisle _furious_ at anyone. I'd also never seen him take any kind of unnecessary risk with my well-being—he'd always preferred to keep me in the safety bubble of his house and family while he or the others quietly did what was needed, only allowing me to participate when he saw no other option. Over the last few months, he'd almost become more protective than Edward. Which meant…

"Alice and Edward didn't tell you anything about this beforehand, did they?" I realized.

"No," Esme hummed sadly. "I would never—"

"I know," I sighed. Esme wouldn't have let me out of her sight last night if she'd known what Charlie was up to. She would have kept me here, where there wasn't even the remotest hint of trouble, and I wouldn't have known how much my father needed my help.

_Well-played, Alice. _If Charlie hadn't woken up when I walked in and lost his mind, everything would have been perfect. No knives, no involving Billy, no broken glass, no being called a…whore. I'd probably be thanking Alice right now for not hiding the truth from me.

I swallowed my tea in silence, almost wishing for something stronger.

"Bella," Esme said after a few minutes' quiet, "I wish you would reconsider. I know you want to do right by your father, but it doesn't have to be this way."

"Yes," I replied dismally, "it does. We all understood that when we talked about this weeks ago."

"This is still your home, Bella," Esme assured me. "You can come back any time you want." She stroked my hair softly, the motion soothing and repetitive. It reminded me of when I first came here, when I'd woken from a nightmare after the last of the drugs was finally gone; Esme's sweet face was the first thing I saw as I opened my eyes.

"Thanks, Mo—Esme," I said, startling myself. Esme's eyes widened as well, but neither of us said anything after that. I reached for her hand, and she understood.

After I finished my tea and washed out my cup, I called Carlisle at work to let him know I was okay and went upstairs to change. There was no point in covering my scars here, and the turtleneck was irritating. Looking at my side of the closet, I decided I might as well start packing as long as I was in there. Someone had already brought down a trunk from the attic for my use. I realized, upon opening it, that it was Edward's. The inside smelled exactly the same as his pillow, and there were even a few button-up shirts inside. With a tiny smile, I decided to leave his shirts there. They'd be a piece of my home to cling to on the rare sunny days when Edward couldn't be with me.

I was about halfway done when Edward came in, carrying my weekend luggage. The work went quicker with his help, and then I had nothing to occupy my thoughts. I sat facing the window on one end of the trunk and wrapped my arms around one knee. The swaying treetops outside reminded me of green arrow tips, billowing Civil War-era dresses, Japanese pagodas.

"Sorry about Alice," Edward said, sitting behind me, his body pointed toward the western wall of shelves. "She becomes anxious when anything blinds her, and between Charlie surprising her and the wolf erasing your future, she was terrified for you."

"It wasn't one of my more brilliant ideas," I replied, "but at least we know Jacob can control himself."

Edward was quiet for a moment. "About what you said to him…"

I held my breath.

"Thank you. For what you said about our family. No one has ever seen us that way before, or defended what we are."

I smiled to myself and exhaled. "No one has ever looked hard enough, have they?"

"I suppose not."

I sat there, staring out the window, wondering what he'd say next.

"You really believe I'm your soul mate?" Edward whispered. Something in his voice made me think he was bracing himself.

"If there's a better word for what we are, I'd love to hear it." I noted that the clouds were thinning and the sun might make an appearance before the day was over.

"But I don't…have…" he struggled to say it.

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward," I insisted. "You wouldn't be able to love me without a soul."

"Hmm," he murmured. "Perhaps."

"Edward," I said seriously, "what kind of world do you think we live in, what kind of gods do you think are running the universe, if you believe Pete and Jimmy have souls and you don't?"

Edward was silent a few moments longer. "You know I've killed people. Scores of people."

"You stopped a bunch of rapists and serial killers from hurting more innocents," I replied sensibly. "That must count for something."

"Maybe," he whispered. "But that doesn't mean I have a soul."

Something stirred in my memory. "You don't have a soul. You _are_ a soul. You have a body," I quoted softly.

I felt Edward turn toward me. "Who said that?"

"C.S. Lewis, I believe," I said, smiling.

He pressed his icy cheek lightly against my right shoulder. "I never thought of it that way."

"You should," I whispered back, turning my head to nuzzle his hair with my cheek. "Maybe then you could finally let yourself be happy, and me along with you."

"Bella," he began, seeing where I was headed, "I won't steal your life away from you."

"You're not stealing anything," I assured him. "I'm giving myself to you freely. This is my choice, not yours."

His lashes tickled my skin as he closed his eyes. "You have no idea what it is you're asking. I will not allow it."

I sighed. "Look, I really don't want to fight about this today. I don't have the strength for it, and this week is going to be long enough as it is. I just want one peaceful day before I have to leave my family and act like a human."

Edward took his time before saying anything else. "May I ask you one more thing, then?"

"Sure," I whispered, looking down at my toes.

"Did you mean what you said to Charlie?"

"About what?"

"That you forgave me for leaving you. For putting you through hell. For ruining your life…for everything." He seemed not quite able to believe it.

I closed my eyes. "Yes, Edward," I breathed. "I forgive you."

I felt tiny, icy kisses on my shoulder. "I don't deserve you, Bella."

"No," I agreed. "You deserve better."

"There is no one better," Edward said, turning me gently so that we sat side by side. "You're exactly right for me."

"No I'm not," I said into my knee. "I'm weak and imperfect and all used up. You should have someone who's like you."

"I thought you said you didn't want to fight about that," he sighed.

"Who's fighting?" I shrugged. "I'm just being honest."

Edward draped his arm across my shoulders. "You simply refuse to see yourself clearly, my love. I'm constantly amazed by your quiet strength, your subtle perfection, and your endless capacity for love and generosity. You're an extraordinary creature, and you're everything I want."

"Sure I am," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "For now."

"What does that mean?" Edward asked, pulling my chin up so he could look in my eyes.

He wanted me for the rest of my life—sixty years, if I was that fortunate—just like he said in the car. And then I'd be gone. Finally I understood: he didn't _want_ to keep me any longer than that; he didn't love me enough. "Nothing," I choked, the tears spilling at last. An odd, unpleasant heat formed somewhere behind my stuttering heart.

"Bella," he murmured melodically, pulling me into his cold embrace and layering my hair with kisses, "I will always want you. How can you doubt that, after everything we've endured together?"

"Easily. I only want one thing, and that's to be with you forever. You refuse to grant me that request. What conclusion am I supposed to draw, Edward?" Something white began to burn me from the inside.

"That I love you too much to sentence you to an eternal half-life like mine," he answered firmly.

I chuckled once with absolutely no humor. "You don't have any idea what a half-life really is, do you?" I looked directly into his sad golden eyes and saw my brown dead ones reflected back at me. The fiery stones from my dream piled up in my chest, charring my insides. "I _do_."

I looked away from him and forced my to eyes blur around the gold and black of our bed.

_The derivative of x^2 is 2x._

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."

_The derivative of x^3 is 3x^2._

I felt something shaking my shoulder. "Bella?"

_The derivative of x^4 is 4x^3._

"Bella!" My teeth rattled, and I didn't care, because my heart was slowing and the burning was fading away.

_The derivative of x^5 is 5x^4._

"Alice! Get Jasper!"

_The derivative of x^6 is 6x^5._

"He's still out on patrol. What's wrong…? Bella? Bella, wake up! Damn it, Edward! Why do you keep _doing_ this to her? Why can't you just give her what she wants?"

_Just one peaceful day…_


	18. Carnalize

**AWESOME NEWS!**

**Fate Worse Than Death has been nominated for an Indie Award!** Category Best AU Work In Progress. To vote, please visit theindietwificawards dot com. First round of voting begins July 8th.

Disclaimer: still applies  
Thanks to Sherry and Shari for putting up with my crap, and to all the INSANELY AWESOME PEOPLE who nominated me. You people ROCK!

_**Music:** "Dead As Yesterday" by Black Label Society, "Uninvited" by Alanis Morissette, "The Chemicals Between Us" by Bush, Bella's Playlist (endnotes)_

* * *

Chapter 18 Carnalize

_There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it._

~Oscar Wilde

I stood on the bottom step of the wide front porch, checking my watch.

12:03 P.M.

Monday

May 17

Roughly four weeks away from high school graduation, assuming the principal allowed me to graduate on time, which Alice assured me he would (for whatever that was worth). I sighed in defeat. Today I would have to take my forged transcript down to Forks High to reregister there. Edward would do the same, and I wasn't sure if he'd think it was a good idea to ride with me to school, or if he'd just drop me off at Charlie's and go to school separately with Esme to lessen the suspicious gossip. The human façade was so irritating.

Jasper had come home in a hurry Sunday evening and woken me from my haze as gently as possible. I had apologized to him for taking him away from his hunting and almost immediately asked if he could please give me a few pointers on how to deal with all the humans. It had amused him somewhat that I had to ask, to which I'd only shrugged. Edward had watched me quietly, holding my hand with both of his and looking at me as though afraid I might vanish. After my human lesson, Jasper had asked if I'd like to discuss anything in private, throwing Edward an irate glance, but I declined politely. He, like everyone else, tried telling me I didn't have to go, but he didn't pressure me. Rather, he asked me to verbalize my reasoning and promised he wouldn't judge me for it.

"I don't have one reason, Jasper," I told him softly. "I have a hundred."

"I'll settle for one."

I sighed and thought about the best way to answer. _For the same reason I pretended to be normal all those months after everyone left me, the same reason I keep Charlie in the dark about my past, and the same reason I went to the wolves when I was asked. _"I protect my family."

He didn't ask me to elaborate any further. If there was anyone who understood duty, it was a soldier.

Edward held me close all night Sunday, asking if I could forgive him. My only response was to ask for music. He sang softly, and I let my mind float on his voice until sleep found me. My nightmares were full of glass and needles and molten rocks and laughing faces, and I woke hissing again, clawing at the clothes on my chest until Edward covered me with his cold body and spoke in soothing velvet, blowing his breath into my face, all the tricks we'd learned over the last two months. After calming down, I apologized for the screaming and for hazing out on him the day before. Edward shook his head and looked toward the heavens as if they'd have some kind of answer for him, and I didn't want to listen to more of his apologies or talk about it anymore. I didn't want to talk about anything. At my request, we spent Monday morning at the piano. I only sang once, not having the heart for more.

Esme and Alice hugged me close at noon when it was time to go, Esme asking me to come see her the next day, every day, and Alice murmuring apologies at dizzying speed for Saturday night. Jasper and I only looked at each other, not needing words today. Rose and Emmett still weren't home from their own excursion, and though I would have liked to have seen them, part of me was glad. Saying goodbye to them, even if it was only temporary, would have been too much. Carlisle, who'd only just arrived at home after a twenty-hour shift, shot Edward a scathing look, then another at Alice, before turning back to me.

"Take a walk with me before you go."

This was highly unusual for the two of us, but I knew he was upset, and I didn't mind the delay at all. It wasn't like Forks was going anywhere without me. He offered me his arm, as if we were simply out for a stroll on a nice day, and led me into a clump of trees. We weren't far enough away for Edward not to hear us unless he was trying not to.

"Do you feel safe, going back to Charlie?" Carlisle asked.

I shrugged, unable to give him a simple answer to that question.

"Do I need to visit him at work?" Carlisle's voice was lower and darker than I was accustomed to, with eyes blacker than I thought they should be for having hunted a few days ago. I remembered that he'd threatened Pete McCoig to get my release papers.

"No," I whispered. "I don't know that it would make things any better. Besides, Billy said he'd talk to him."

Carlisle huffed as if he wanted to protest Billy's ability in that task, but instead he looked up at the grey sky. "Just so you're aware, I _am_ going to call him," he said quietly.

Great. More people jumping down Charlie's throat. "I wish you wouldn't," I tried.

"I'd be taking you to Olympia for a prosthetic eye fitting if Charlie had moved just a little quicker," Carlisle almost growled. "That merits a phone call at the very least. If you'd gone in there alone…"

I lowered my head, looking at the abstract shapes formed by the bracken on the forest floor.

A hawk shrieked in the distance as Carlisle considered what to say to me. Finally he asked me an unexpected question. "Do you remember your detox at all?"

"Not really," I shook my head. "I used the haze to protect myself. I just remember waking up on the couch and freaking out."

Carlisle shifted and drew his arm around my shoulders. "I remember _everything_," he murmured. "From the moment Esme and I walked into our house and saw you lying there wrapped in blankets, I remember every detail. You'd been hit so hard, I thought your eye socket might be fractured. Every fever and chill, every seizure, every bruise and scar and needle mark, every terrible scream, every…" He broke off, seeming to realize the need to rein himself in. "I'll never be able to forget any of it, no matter how hard I try."

I didn't know what to say to that; I just pressed closer into his side. I had memories I'd rather have forgotten, too.

"You understand that if Charlie attacks you again, Edward will probably kill him," Carlisle warned. "I won't be able to stop him, and neither will you."

I shut my eyes. "Edward wouldn't…he knows what Charlie means to me."

"Your father isn't supposed to hurt you if you mean anything to him at all," he reminded me, brushing aside a strand of my hair that had fallen into my eyes. "Do not expect Edward to show restraint a second time. If Charlie gets drunk again, do not stay in the house. Do not fight. Don't even stop to get your things. Just get out of there and come home."

I nodded, and we turned and walked back to the car. He gave me a small kiss on top of my head and told me to be careful. It was the first time he'd ever done that, and it made me feel safe and loved. I wished he could do the same every morning, but my decision was made, and now it was too late.

I hoped, as Edward drove me into Forks to deposit my luggage at Charlie's house, that I would be able to get through this, whatever it was. I hoped I'd be convincing enough for Charlie. I hoped everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine.

Oh, my school registration went well enough. Principal Greene, thanks to the excellent grades Alice provided on my transfer record, was more than willing to allow me to graduate with my class and even resume my old schedule. I didn't like being called "Miss Swan," which he did constantly—Pete used to call me that all the time. I hated the way Mr. Greene stared at me, as if I were a crossword puzzle or a Jackson Pollock painting, and I gritted my teeth when he asked to see my hospital release paperwork on the pretext of needing official documentation in order to excuse my attendance issue. He stumbled over words like "situation" and "absence," and he was obviously disappointed when the sheet I handed him, the one required by the state for his little waiver, was not the document containing my diagnosis. He didn't even ask to make a copy for my permanent record.

Edward, whose appointment was right after mine, seemed to have his jaw clenched when he strode into Mr. Greene's office. I hoped he wouldn't frighten the odious, overly inquisitive man too badly. We rode together to and from school, having decided that the gossip was unavoidable and not reason enough to keep us apart.

Dinner with Charlie was subdued. Over Edward's strenuous objections, which he expressed in private, Charlie and I spent the evening alone. It was my hope that the illusion of normality on the first night would help my father feel more comfortable with the situation and not feel the need to go out drinking as a means of escape. Only I knew whose eyes were boring into my back through the window, and it gave me just enough strength to get through the meal without breaking down. We tried to make small talk at first, or what passed for small talk when you live with a cop, talking about the escalation of violence in Seattle and the local vandalism case again—apparently Charlie caught a seventh-grader in the act. Since he didn't ask, I didn't have to feed Charlie my story about how there weren't any qualified therapists in Forks for me to begin seeing as part of my follow-up care, or make an excuse for why I didn't have antidepressant prescriptions that needed to be filled. Quietly, as though such a thing was embarrassing and unnecessary, Charlie mentioned an A.A. meeting that took place every Sunday in La Push, one that afforded him a little more privacy than the meetings in Forks. He didn't actually commit to attending, and given the location on the reservation, I couldn't offer to go with him for moral support. Going any place Edward could not follow was out of the question. Whatever else Billy or Carlisle had told Charlie—I didn't expect I'd ever know the full substance of those conversations—at least I could be grateful that someone was trying to get Charlie some help. Other than a brief mention that the Cullens had given me a cellular phone in case of an emergency (Alice had installed a new SIM card so I'd have a local number), we didn't talk about anything that could be connected to Edward.

Charlie seemed pleased enough that I was really, truly home, and did not mind when I excused myself early for the evening to shower and finish unpacking. What I really did was ball up on my bed, listen to Bach's cello suites on my iPod, and try to brace myself against the tears. The smell of alcohol had not yet come out of Charlie's sofa, and I'd found a tiny piece of glass lurking in a corner of the hallway when I swept the floors after dinner. Edward found me still curled up after Charlie fell asleep and rocked me for a long time, apologizing again and humming me to sleep.

At 5:00 A.M. I woke from another nightmare, this one about glass in my eyes and McCoig and the burning stones again. I felt myself hissing and biting down on my pillow to combat the blistering white heat that licked my torso. Edward had to hide in the closet when Charlie came to check on me, which only made the pain worse, especially when Charlie tried to touch my hand. He just wouldn't _leave_, and in the end I was so desperate to alleviate the terrible sensation that I blindly resorted to cruelty: I swore brutally at my father and made him think I was having nightmares about his drunken episode again. Edward pressed his cool body to mine as soon as my bedroom door closed, and his whispered I love you's and humming slowly erased the stinging. It took everything I had to send him home for a change of clothes and his car while I got ready for school, and I got the impression it was just as difficult for him to tear himself away from me.

The first day of school was every bit as awful as I thought it would be. The knowledge that Edward had nearly every class with me and that he and Alice would almost always be at my side were the only things that kept me from running back to the Volvo and hiding for the duration. If being gawked at by people who knew my father all weekend was a spectacle, this was a public execution. _Everyone_ stared at us. Edward and Alice were used to that kind of thing, of course, and I'd expected it to happen, but it still bothered me. I didn't need to be able to read minds to know what they were thinking and muttering: freaks. And in my case: psycho. I tried to keep my head up, to face the curiosity and judgment and murmurs with blank composure, but sometimes it was a little too much, and I would look away. Edward kept a protective arm around me and locked his threatening gaze on several students and a few teachers who looked at us with particularly cruel eyes. There were just so _many_ of them, their faces like fists against my eyes.

At least our class lectures gave me something to focus on besides all the attention. Thanks to my insistence on doing all of Alice's assignments, I was perfectly able to keep up with the current coursework, although I was worried about the roughly two-month-long gap in my notes from my hospital days. Mr. Varner was downright impressed with my mastery of derivatives. I remembered to smile and accept the compliment with polite thanks.

Lunch was more interesting than I expected it to be. Alice had been sitting alone the last two months, and Edward and I automatically went toward her table, finding many watchful eyes and loud whispers along the way. Instinctively, I kept my distance from the males, especially the large ones, vaguely registering the skulking change in my gait. As we passed my old table, everyone sitting there looked up at us openly. This was not unexpected, and I simply flicked my eyes past Mike, Jessica, and Lauren almost dismissively, wishing they would get over it already. I'd had enough of their shameless stares in class all morning long. Angela, however, smiled shyly and almost looked as though she wanted to scoot over and make room for us. She was the only person who hadn't gaped at me rudely today. I smiled back apologetically and cut my eyes in Lauren's direction—I had few memories of the months at school before being hospitalized, but all the memories of Lauren were harsh and cutting. Angela's shoulders slumped a little as she sighed and nodded slightly. She turned her attention back to Ben, and I followed Edward to what would always be the Cullen table.

"Bella," Edward murmured as I took a seat that would put my back to the wall, "would you like to sit with Angela?" Clearly he'd heard her end of the non-verbal conversation. Alice sat across from us and stared vacantly at a spot on the wall.

"I'd love to sit with Angela," I whispered back, sniffing at the tray of food I hunched over. I felt guilty for not having spoken to Angela properly yet, but I hadn't found an opportunity for a private conversation with her. "But I have no interest in sitting with the rest of them. Jasper said I should keep my social interactions to a minimum today."

Jasper had been very clear on this point over the weekend. _I'm impressed by the amount of self-discipline you've developed over such a short time,_ he had said, _but we haven't identified all your triggers; we can't predict what might make you snap. Even Alice can't see everything, and I won't be there to help you._ It was imperative that I avoid triggering a flashback if I wanted to continue this ridiculous charade and make my father happy.

"I'm sorry, Bella." Edward's voice was full of regret, and I knew he blamed himself for my current predicament.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, scanning the cafeteria—_four exits, two against the north wall, one to the east through the kitchen, and a fire exit to the south, only 20 feet away from me_—as I picked at my cardboard-flavored sandwich. I knew perfectly well that most of these people would never have accepted me after doing time in a crazy house anyway. Such was the nature of their small-town, human minds. I would always be an outcast now, so I might as well try to get used to it. Easier said than done.

Edward flinched suddenly, a mask of sheer agony contorting his face. Alice and I both looked at him in alarm. "Edward!" I whispered urgently, touching his face in an attempt to smooth away the misery. What could possibly make a vampire feel such pain?

"You never told me," he muttered in a tortured voice, "what you were like before you went to the hospital."

I looked up and surveyed the cafeteria again, as if I'd be able to pinpoint who exactly was thinking such ugly things. "Who…?" I said. My heart was pounding, though I didn't know why.

"They've been thinking about it all day, love," Edward said, still sounding bitter and sad.

But this anguish hadn't flashed across his face all day. Someone must be remembering something specific, perhaps from the day I collapsed at school. I searched the room once more, feeling my spine coil and curl. My hands balled into white fists.

"Simmer down, Bella," Alice trilled, looking at me as though amused. "Much as I'd love to see you try and fight off the whole school, I don't think you'd do too well against the males, and I do think the administration would have a problem with such a flagrant conduct violation."

I thumped back in my seat, though I hadn't remembered rising. Such a strange thing to say, but I realized she was exactly right. I wanted to stalk across the wide room and kick everyone's—

"Are you out of your mind?" Edward hissed at me. "What are you _thinking_?"

I found his first question hilarious, and before I knew it I was rocking with laughter. "You know," I murmured between strangled guffaws, "I do believe I _am_ out of my mind." I certainly couldn't keep my mind locked into one frame of thought, but at least I was no longer contemplating raining down violence on the entire cafeteria.

"You are the strangest woman I've ever met, are you aware of that?" Edward asked, pulling me in for a quick kiss on my temple. I shifted closer to him and let him wrap a cool arm around me. My smile remained, and I thought to myself that maybe I'd be able to get through this day without a real problem.

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

For reasons unknown, the gods of high school schedules (probably Khronos and Ananke, Time and Inevitability) had given me seventh hour P.E. again this year and no Cullens to share it with. I wasn't worried about the physical activity at all—we were just running track, no equipment to fiddle with—but dressing out was a different matter. Coach Clapp said he didn't care if I wore sweats or track pants, so long as I had my uniform shirt and tennis shoes on. I changed in a bathroom stall, wearing a long-sleeved shirt under the dreaded uniform, making a mental note to ask Alice if she had some kind of fashion solution for this. I touched up my neck with more concealer before stowing my street clothes and pulling the padlock from my backpack. There wasn't much in there worth stealing except my wallet, phone, and knife, but I didn't put it past some of the more venomous personalities to rifle through my things.

I knew I was right to feel that way the minute I walked through the main changing room and saw Lauren Mallory turn to sweep me with her critical, hateful eyes.

"Nice outfit, _Bella_," she said cattily. "What else is in that bag, your crazy pills?"

_After a while I stopped thinking of them as people,_ Edward's voice echoed.

I turned away from her and locked up my bag. Stupid cow.

"Oh, so now you're too good to talk to anyone?"

I took deep, calming breaths while I silently counted to ten, repressing the urge to hiss in her smug face. Lauren made a superior little "humph" sound and stalked off to the gym.

I followed the other girls out a moment later, trying to ignore the stares, lining up at the starting line when I was told, placing my hands on the ground like everyone else while Coach Clapp counted down, his whistle an inch from his lips.

"Three…two…one…"

_RUN!_

"Good hustle, Swan!"

I blinked, confused for a moment, trying to catch my breath as the other girls reached the finish line behind me. Lauren shot me a loathsome glare, and that was it for me. I didn't have the strength to care what anyone said or thought anymore. I simply did what I had to do and wished this long, miserable day would just end.

Edward was waiting for me in front of the gym after class. He looked so worried that my heart clenched painfully in response. I reached for him, wanting to erase his anxiety, and found that his cold fingertips eased some of my own tension. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up slightly. "Let's go home," I whispered.

I only spent an hour at the Cullen house. Jasper wasn't home to offer me more practical advice on dealing with Lauren, so Edward and I spent our time with Esme, talking of simple things as she plied me with human food. Alice, who'd been unusually quiet all day, disappeared as soon as we arrived, probably off to find Jasper.

Edward drove me back to Charlie's and spent the entire evening there, helping me with homework, cooking, and the dishes, pretending to watch news coverage of the Seattle crime wave with Charlie but actually observing Charlie himself, and asking me what I thought about Mr. Berty's conjecture that _Othello_ should by all rights have been named _Iago._ Recalling the way our instructor's eyes had lingered appraisingly on my face, I expressed sarcastic relief that he'd finally chosen a text for his senior level English class that I hadn't already studied in my freshman level English class back in Phoenix. Would it have killed the man to incorporate Milton's _Paradise Lost_ or Conrad's _Heart of Darkness_ into the curriculum?

At ten o'clock Charlie started clearing his throat more than was strictly necessary. He couldn't order me around anymore, but it was still his house, and he had every right to ask Edward to leave after a certain hour. We all understood what Charlie wanted without him having to say it, so I tugged Edward reluctantly to the door and walked him to his car.

"Keep your cell phone in your pocket, just in case," Edward said, giving me a quiet kiss good night. "I won't be long."

"Is there danger?" I asked quickly, glancing back at the living room window.

"No, love. It's just a precaution." He kissed my forehead one last time, watched me walk back to my front door, and was then gone.

I marched directly up the stairs without a word to my father and took a quick shower, avoiding the mirrors as I dressed, as usual. I powered up the laptop Esme gave me and composed a quick, to-the-point e-mail to Renee, informing her that I'd moved back in with Charlie, though I didn't say why. Edward came to me at 10:30, and for a brief half hour I had a little peace with him before I drifted into uneasy, painful dreams.

And that was my routine. Every day began and ended with increasingly agonizing nightmares, and in between there were human stares and whispers, their deprecation closing in on me, shifting walls pushing me into the center of something, a spotlight trained on me like an all-seeing eye. There was a daily barrage of snide remarks from Lauren that got harder to ignore without growling to myself, schoolwork (suddenly I would be taking comprehensive finals after all—terrifying), comforting embraces from Edward and Alice, and occasional pleasant conversations with Angela. Evenings consisted of the buildup of tension after school while Edward and I waited for Charlie to come home, fear that he might have gone drinking at the bar in La Push where Alice couldn't see, mild relief that he didn't smell like alcohol when he got home, and strained dinner conversations in which he generally met Edward's evaluating glances with irritated stares. If Charlie ever wondered why Alice didn't visit me at the house, he certainly didn't ask. I preferred to visit the Cullen house after dinner, but I always found myself even more apprehensive about returning to Charlie's afterward, particularly when Alice was unavailable to reassure me. The house was rarely full anymore because of the patrol schedule (one thing about Victoria, she certainly seemed to keep my vampires busy), and I never saw Carlisle at all, he was so busy with work and his own need to hunt. By the time Edward leapt through my window every night I was so drained from the long day that I could only stay awake for a few moments of gentle kisses or crying jags before I passed out and started the whole process again.

It was like my old life, before Edward had gone away, only a bitter mockery. I had no wish to be among these aggravating humans, to sit there and look at my father across the dinner table and act like I was unafraid of him, to e-mail short, clipped updates to my mother, or to pretend I was happy in this world. My private moments with Edward or the family were the only times I felt even mildly comfortable, and I found they weren't enough to stave off the strange depression I felt myself rapidly sinking into. _Just a few more weeks_, I told myself.

On the first Saturday after my return, I decided to make the most of what little I had—even if I couldn't change anything about this place or the people in it, I could at least make the effort to enjoy my day off. Edward and I went grocery shopping early in the morning when Charlie was at work and there were no crowds. The sky was overcast but not raining, the perfect weather for us. Strolling through the aisles, sharing funny stories, making tentative plans for the evening, I felt more cheerful than I had all week, secure in the knowledge that a whole day stretched out before me without having to worry about keeping anyone else placated or fooled. I'd even worn a tank top with a high neckline today, taking care to cover my arms with an open, button-down blouse while in public. Edward was a perfect gentleman, reaching up to the top shelves for anything I wanted and accepting all my little thank you kisses with loving smiles.

"Um, Bella," Edward said in the butcher's section, "are you on that bizarre human diet, the one with all the meat?"

"You mean the Atkins Diet? No. Why, do I look like I need to lose some weight?" I asked teasingly.

"Don't even try to lead me into that conversational death trap," Edward said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "I just wondered why you've decided to buy so much steak."

"You think I should get some ground beef too?" I asked, my eyebrows up in a terribly hammy impersonation of innocent inquiry. Having my own money meant I had more than enough to take care of the grocery bill myself, so I didn't have to buy cheap food just to stay within Charlie's budget.

"Bella," Edward shook his head. "You're supposed to be serving Charlie healthy food. Isn't that why you made me grab the whole wheat pasta?"

"Of course I'm serving him healthy food, Edward. That's what the chicken is for. The steak is for _me._" I pushed past him and reached for a few packages of chicken breasts.

"What is it with you and steaks these days?" he pestered me. I noticed him taking an extra package out of the basket when he thought I wasn't looking.

"They're the only things that taste good anymore," I said, "especially when they're still red in the middle." Actually, they tasted best when they were dripping red with every cut. I was contemplating eating one rare but had not yet worked up the courage to try it. Although the smell of human blood still made me sick, I'd never once in my life grown nauseated or faint at the smell of raw meat in the kitchen.

"Bella," Edward said slowly, with an odd look on his face, "are you saying you enjoy the taste of blood?"

I gave him my most dazzling smile, which probably wasn't much. "It does make good gravy," I teased. This was actually true—the heat did interesting things to the flavor and smell.

"That is just so…" he was completely at a loss for words.

I frowned, wondering if I'd disgusted him in some way. I wouldn't have expected it to bother _him_, of all people.

"…hot." He stared down at me with unmistakable desire in his eyes, and I felt a familiar gravitational pull toward his body.

A minute later I was gasping for air and casting a mind-your-own-damn-business glance at the white-haired old lady making tut-tut sounds as she pushed her cart past us. "Old bat," I murmured against Edward's lips, kissing him again as the faint stir in my belly clamored for more. My hands were locked in his hair, while his slid down my back, below my waist.

"She's jealous. Her husband hasn't kissed her like this in decades," Edward muttered back, his arms enveloping me completely, gently grasping me in new, exciting places. "Are we done here? I think I'd like to depart as soon as humanly possible."

"We could leave the groceries and leave as soon as vampirically possible," I suggested breathlessly, willing myself not to jump entirely into his arms.

"Don't tempt me," Edward hissed—the sound gave me shivers.

"Let's hurry then," I breathed. "Charlie will be gone all day."

Fifteen minutes later (curse that tortoise-like cashier) the steaks were all tossed haphazardly in the refrigerator, and I was collapsing on top of Edward in my small bed, my outer shirt flung to the floor, kissing his stone throat in a way he'd never allowed before. His head was thrown back on my pillow, his fingers roamed across my skin and knotted in my hair, and the low rumbling in his chest was punctuated by odd gasps. I slid my boiling-hot lips and tongue up his neck—my god, he even _tasted_ of intoxicating pleasure—over his chin, and around the edges of his lips. I heard the faraway sound of buttons popping under my hands as I shaped my lips around Edward's and felt him move with me. My heart thundered in my throat as my fingers found their way into his shirt…

Iron hands locked around my face and gently pushed me back several inches. Gold-ringed eyes stared back at me, shining with excitement. Edward and I were panting like wild animals, and though I tried to lower my face back to his for more of his icy sweet flavor, he wouldn't allow me to move an inch. I contented myself with stroking the hard muscles of his cold chest with my burning, searching fingertips. He shut his eyes and growled again. Deciding I liked this response _very_ much, I tightened my legs around his hips and pawed at his upper body some more, marveling at the very feel of him; my own pleasured sighs and moans were low, vibratory, and sounded almost like purring. Edward thrust his head deeper into my pillow; his quivering growl turned into a full-fledged snarl, and I felt every delicious muscle of his body tense beneath me as I rocked my hips against his.

And then I was alone, face down in my pillow, trying to breathe and remember my name at the same time.

Ten minutes later I was back in my long-sleeved shirt, tip-toeing around the top floor of my house.

"Edward?"

There was no sound but my own fluttering heart. His car was still parked outside, but that meant nothing. I walked carefully down the stairs, craning my neck over the railing, checking every room and even the closets. Edward wasn't anywhere in the house that I could see.

"Edward," I called again, knowing he'd be able to hear me from outside. There was no answer.

I sighed and slowly walked back to the kitchen, hoping that giving myself something to do so would force away the stinging sensation of rejection. There were still canned foods and pastas that needed to be put away, and most of the meat needed to be put in the freezer. I'd forgotten to grab the milk in my rush to get home, I realized. I contemplated going back to the store, but that meant I'd have to face the cashier, the sacker, and probably the same white-haired old woman who'd seen me sucking face and getting felt up by my boyfriend in the meat department. That was more humiliation than I cared to deal with on top of everything else. I would just call Charlie later and ask him to pick up some milk on the way home. Maybe if I assigned him a task he wouldn't stop at the Rusty Bear Trap Bar and Grille on the way home. And if he did stop there, or somewhere like it…well, we had a back door. I'd just have to make sure to keep my knife handy and my much-loathed shoes on my feet.

After I finished my chore I lumbered back up the stairs to my room, flopped on my bed, and stared at the wall. For a moment I debated the idea of finishing where Edward left off—I'd never done that before, had never really thought about pleasuring myself until now—but I wasn't in the mood anymore, and the mere thought of trying made me feel pathetic and sad. Needing some kind of escape from the misery, I grabbed my iPod, inserted my earphones, and selected a playlist of semi-violent music. Preserving my eardrums was not a priority for me, so I cranked up the volume as high as I could stand. I felt my head bob in time with the drums, and soon I was singing along, probably sounding terrible, but at least I didn't have to feel the embarrassment, the indignity, the blow to my self esteem, or anything but what the music told me to feel.

Ten songs later I felt a rush of air in the room and a pair of eyes drilling holes into the back of my head. I kept rocking my body and singing, willing myself not to turn around, not to look, not to think of anything but the lyrics. The eyes didn't leave, and I pressed one of my earphones further into my ear, deepening the sound, while my other hand formed a fist for me to cover my face with. I squeezed my eyes shut and moved with the music. I was electrically aware of him moving closer, so I sang louder, infusing all my pain into the lyrical words of someone else's imagination.

Edward reached over, picked up the small device, and shut it off. I kept singing for a few seconds, kept my comforting rhythmic movement, and then became very still. I did not open my eyes or move my hands away from my head. He said nothing.

"All this time I've waited to be able to feel that way again, to have that be _okay_ again," I said coldly. "And you walked out on me."

"Bella, I'm truly sorry," he apologized, sounding sincere. But he'd always been a convincing liar.

"Save it," I snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

"Please listen, Bella. Allow me to explain," he tried.

"Don't care," I replied in my clipped tone.

"I did call. You must not have heard the phones ringing." I felt his weight sink into the mattress as he sat down behind me.

"Just what every girl wants after a hot make-out session followed by a disappearing boyfriend: a phone call full of lame excuses," I sneered.

"Would you stop this petulance and listen to me?" Edward said, exasperated. He pulled my hands down, trapped them in one of his own, and plucked the earphones out of position. I childishly kept my eyes clenched. Edward sighed. "Bella," he whispered throatily, his mouth suddenly within a few millimeters of my ear, "I have never been so aroused in over a century of walking this earth."

My eyes popped open. "Really?" Just like that, my anger had vanished. I rolled onto my back to look up at his face, only an inch away from mine. "You mean it?"

"That was the single most erotic experience of my existence," he exhaled, his luscious scent washing across my face and making me swoon. "It took everything I had to run away instead of taking you right then and there."

"So why didn't you?" I moaned, feeling my muscles curl and pull toward him magnetically. "I was willing enough."

"Because," he said with a kiss on my earlobe, "it's dangerous," kiss, "and wrong," kiss.

It took me two minutes to form a coherent thought; his icy lips were so sensual as they traveled against my neck. "Wrong?"

"Yes," he breathed, sliding his nose under my jaw, "so very, very wrong."

"Give me my sin again," I said eventually, quoting Romeo and Juliet.

"Hardly," Edward laughed into the concavity below my throat. "I don't think I'll ever be able to watch you eat steak again, at least not in front of your father."

"Crap," I sighed as reality crept through my fog of renewed desire. "Charlie. I need to call him and tell him to pick up the milk we forgot."

"No need," Edward said, burying his face in my hair. "I bought some on the way back."

"Wait a minute," I said, trying unsuccessfully to infuse the proper level of outrage in my voice. "You're still in trouble for taking off like that. I didn't know what the hell was going on."

"I believe humans call it a 'cold shower.'" He kissed the top of my head and began working his way down. "That may be the first time I've ever superfluously used anything in my bathroom."

I laughed. "Did it work?"

"Not a bit," he replied immediately, his mouth stretching into a crooked grin as his face hovered over mine. "I had to run it out of me. In fact, I think I feel another run coming on right now."

"Oh no, you don't," I said, reaching up and grabbing the collar of his fresh shirt. "This is my day. You're stuck with me." I stole a short kiss. "Now let's go downstairs and make some lunch. I'm suddenly craving a rare steak."

"Yes, dear," he laughed, and helped me to my feet.

* * *

**A/N:** Do I think it's normal for an 18-year-old girl to never have thought about masturbation before? Nope. SMeyer burdened us all with a character who never thought of sex in anything more than a mechanical way until she was seventeen and met a hot vampire. That's the source material I'm working with, people, so cut me some slack.

**Bella's Playlist:**

"Little Sister" by Queens of the Stone Age  
"Until it Sleeps" by Metallica  
"What I've Done" by Linkin Park  
"Between Angels and Insects" by Papa Roach  
"Toxicity" by System of a Down  
"B.Y.O.B." by System of a Down  
"Radio/Video" by System of a Down  
"Man in the Box" by Alice in Chains  
"Brain Stew" by Green Day  
"Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day (Bella sings this as Edward comes in)


	19. Family Day

Thanks to Shari and Sherry for their help, and thank you to all the readers for motivating me to keep making this story the best it can be.

Music: "Heaven" by Los Lonely Boys, "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, "Wayfaring Stranger" by Johnny Cash

A/N: Just in case there's any confusion, this takes place the day after Chapter 18, and one week after Charlie's whiskey binge.

* * *

Chapter 19 Family Day

_Cherish your human connections—your relationships with friends and family._

~Barbara Bush

"Bells…I mean, Bella?" Charlie hailed through my door. He did not try to open it, not even a crack.

"Yeah," I called back, trying to keep my voice as steady as I could, hoping I only sounded as tired as I usually felt, not terrified. Recovering from my nightmares was taking more time these days, not less, but at least the screaming part had passed for today.

"I'm headed out," my father informed me. "I should be back home around six or so."

"What day is it?" I muttered rapidly.

"Sunday, my love," Edward murmured back mellifluously, smoothing my hair. The sun was barely up, and I didn't feel like pulling away from Edward's cool embrace to check the actual time.

"Fresh or salt?" I asked in a louder voice.

"Salt."

La Push. "Good luck, Charlie." I delved my face deep into Edward's throat, saturating myself in his soothing scent as he hummed and sang.

When the last vestiges of my malneirophrenia* had passed and I was feeling cheerful again, I declared Sunday to be Family Day, which meant Edward and I got to spend the day visiting whoever was at the Cullen house while Charlie was out fishing or, I hoped, going to his first A.A. meeting. Emmett and Jasper were both home, while Carlisle was at work _again_—I was seriously considering tripping over something on purpose just so I could see him—and the girls had a kind of Ladies Day Out hunting trip. Not a perfect visit, but still a much-needed relief after a nerve-racking week.

The boys and I played poker, one of our favorite pastimes—I won everybody's cars without Edward helping me cheat for a change, finally having figured out how to fake out Jasper. We decided against Emmett's suggestion of strip poker, mostly because none of us wanted to see Emmett naked, but also because Edward didn't want to have to murder his brothers for seeing things they should not see, on the off chance that I started blushing and lost my ability to bluff. I chose not to remind him that they'd already seen me shirtless once in the forest. They all remembered it vividly with their flawless vampire minds, and I didn't think it would be safe to antagonize Edward by bringing the image to the forefront of everyone's consciousness. I didn't like to think about the scars they'd seen across my back that night; I usually shoved stray thoughts of that to a remote corner of my brain. Edward didn't know it, but I still covered the bathroom mirror.

To change the subject and prevent the possibility of homicide and/or nude vampires, I playfully suggested a video game instead; our band, _Bloodsuckers_, was 145th on Rock Band's online ranking system. We dropped ten places when Emmett insisted on pretending he couldn't carry a tune. Personally, I didn't think it was fair that he failed one song in particular—Courtney Love couldn't exactly carry a tune, either, in my opinion.

"You seem much happier today," Jasper commented when we sat down in the dining room later for a therapy session.

"It's been a good weekend," I said, smiling down at the floor, unable to entirely stop myself from reliving some of the more interesting portions of my Saturday. It would probably be a long while before Edward was that unguarded once more, but I hoped he'd loosen up again soon. I knew I would never look at sirloin the same way again.

"I assume you're referring to Edward's…excited state of mind yesterday?" Jasper was clearly trying to remain detached and professional, but I noticed the barest hint of a smirk when I eyed him.

I flushed a little and cleared my throat. "It was a fun day. I don't really have enough of that during the week." I cast my eyes in the direction of the glass wall. "I feel like I'm always acting out a part for Charlie and everyone at school. It's exhausting. I don't see how all of you can do it over and over again for decades. Doesn't it annoy the crap out of you?"

"Sometimes," Jasper admitted. "Being with Alice makes it bearable, though. What about you?"

I looked searchingly out the window to where Edward was wrestling with Emmett. It amazed me that he had allowed me to remain indoors alone with Jasper. He would probably be able to hear my voice, or perhaps read Jasper's mind and hear me that way, but maybe he'd be too distracted to pay attention.

"I hate it," I admitted quietly, staring down at the veins protruding from the backs of my hands as the words spilled forth. "All of it. This isn't like back in Phoenix. In a city that large, the new kid stopped being the center of attention after a week, because there was always new drama. It doesn't work that way here. Granted, I knew going in that it would be like this, but knowing that doesn't make it any less painful. I'm always playing the role, smiling at people who don't really want to smile back, feeling their eyes on me, their whispers, and holding my breath every time Charlie comes home, wondering if _this_ will be the day Alice was wrong again and he gets drunk and hits me…I just hate it." I stopped to take a deep breath. "And most of all, I hate that Edward thinks I'd be missing out by _not_ acting human. Before Charlie got all violent, Edward was trying to convince me to go back. I thought it was what I wanted, too, but…I just don't know anymore, Jasper. Yeah, I understand, Charlie needs me, and I'm committed to seeing that through. I want to do the right thing for everyone and keep my dad afloat. But for myself, I still just want to come home."

"Does Edward know this?" Jasper asked seriously.

"If he didn't know before, he does now," I replied, looking out the window again. I couldn't see Edward anymore, but that didn't mean he wasn't there.

Jasper paused for a long, full minute before continuing. "You don't have to stay there if you don't want to. Just say the word, and you can come home whenever you like. Today, if you want. You know that, don't you?"

I took another deep breath and looked up at the crystal chandelier over my head. "I know." _Just a few more weeks. Just a few more weeks…unless I fail my exams and have to attend summer school…damn it all, there's no way in hell I'm staying in that school for that long…_

I could feel Jasper searching me before he released a puff of air and went on. "How has Charlie been treating you?"

"Well," I answered reluctantly, "we don't really interact too much except at dinner and maybe a few minutes in the morning. He's not rude to me, but he really hates Edward being there, and he doesn't try to hide it." I found myself wondering what I was even accomplishing that way.

"I see," Jasper frowned. "Do he and Edward ever engage in any kind of argument?"

"They don't say a word to each other," I told him. _They don't have to,_ I did not add. Jasper appeared to consider my words briefly before moving on.

"Have you had any more flashbacks?"

"No, but I've been losing time at school. Not a lot," I said hurriedly when Jasper got that distressed look on his face. "Just…in gym. When I run. I always win when we race, but sometimes I don't remember…the running part. I'm at the starting line, and then I'm at the finish line."

"Bella, do you lose time in any other part of your day?" Jasper demanded.

"No," I promised, seeing what he was driving at. "No haze, no triggers. I've just been having nightmares," I tried to reassure him.

Jasper looked troubled but interested—my dreams had always been revealing before. "Can you tell me about them?"

"They're all mixed up, and they don't make sense. I see Charlie sometimes, and Jimmy. Mostly Dr. McCoig. There's usually glass and scary faces." I pushed away at the evil images threatening to flare up before they could claim me.

"Anything else?"

I hesitated. "It doesn't make sense," I repeated, afraid of sounding insane.

"Tell me, please."

"Fire stones," I whispered.

Jasper blinked. Jasper _never_ blinked. "What are they?"

"I don't know, Jasper. But they burn." I shuddered and folded my arms across my body. "Every morning I wake up on fire, and I can't stop myself from screaming. Charlie must either think I'm still crazy or that I'm still dreaming about what he did."

"Is it like your old dream, when McCoig stunned you?"

I thought about this. "No. It's…white. It blisters. It scalds. It begins in the center of my chest and radiates outward." I shivered. "It gets stronger every day, and it feels like it never ends."

Jasper blinked again and stared at me so oddly, as if I were a kindergartener answering a physics question. "When did you first notice the dream?" he asked, keeping the discussion focused.

"Last weekend, when I went to stay with Charlie." I looked at the swirl of shiny, warm browns in the tabletop. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," Jasper said distantly. "I've never seen you turn a memory into an abstraction before, but you don't have any scars indicating any abuse remotely similar to what you're describing. Would you like to have a hypnosis session for it?"

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head so rapidly I almost felt dizzy. "Not today. It'll just make school that much harder. I've been having a good weekend, and I don't want to ruin it."_ Too late._

"That's understandable," Jasper replied calmly. "We can work on that another time. There's just one last thing I want to ask you about."

"Yes?" I asked, looking up at him shyly.

"Last weekend, when you came home Sunday afternoon…" he seemed almost as reluctant as I. "Alice said when you went into the haze, she thought it was in reaction to something Edward said."

I looked away. "I'd rather not talk about it, Jasper."

"I know you have a tendency to repress anything that you don't want to think about," he said pointedly, "but avoiding this won't make it go away."

I shook my head. "I'm sure Alice told you more than you're letting on."

"Yes, she did," he said gently. "But she's not you, and her telling me doesn't help you deal with it. Only you can tell me what you felt."

"Please," I whispered, closing my eyes for just a moment and trying not to remember the complete and utter hopelessness, the terrible sensation of being refused by the man I loved. "Don't make me."

Jasper tilted his head, looking at me strangely, and I knew he must already be sensing the feelings I didn't want him to know. "Bella," Jasper asked quietly, "what do you want?"

I looked sharply up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do you want." He said it like a statement. It occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time someone asked me that question.

I looked out the window before I answered. Edward wasn't there, and I couldn't feel his eyes watching me. There was an ache in the hollow space between my breasts. "What I can't have."

"You want to be one of us, don't you?" he inferred.

"Yes," I answered calmly. "But more than that, I want Edward to want that _for_ me."

"And you think he doesn't," Jasper guessed, leaning back in his chair.

"He won't do it," I replied, feeling the tears form in the corners of my eyes as I finally gave voice to this. "He doesn't want me forever. He only wants me for right now. I don't understand why he wants me at all."

"That's not true, you know," Jasper said after a moment, emitting disbelief. "He does want you forever. He's just trying not to be selfish, and for some reason he thinks _this_," he gestured at me, and I knew he meant my humanity, "is the best way to accomplish that."

"If you say so," I said quietly, and wiped at my eyes. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. He won't let me have it. All I can ask is to have him for as long as he'll allow and hope for a little peace before I go."

"Go?" Jasper repeated, tilting his head the other way, and the word sounded so strange on his lips, as if it were a foreign language to him.

"Before I die." I stared at the trees, watching the wind shake the branches. It was so funny, the way the pine cones fell at random and startled the squirrels. So funny.

"Bella?"

So funny.

There was a frozen palm on my face, and I felt my heart pump faster. I gasped in surprise.

"Wake up, Bella."

I looked around me quickly, trying to remember what I'd just been doing. I was still at the dining room table, and tears were drying on my cheeks. I looked up at the towering figure standing beside me and saw Jasper's compassionate gold eyes looking down into my face. He pulled his hand away and stepped back.

"What happened?" I asked, confused.

"You were numbing yourself again," he answered.

"Oh," I said lamely. "I'm sorry."

"You're not the one who should be sorry," Jasper said severely, his face turning to stone as he looked out the window.

"Please," I begged, covering my face with my hands, "don't."

"He's an absolute moron if he can't see what he's doing to you." His tone was caustic, bitter.

"He's all I have, Jasper," I said meekly.

"That's not true. You have all of us, too," he reassured me.

"Only for as long as he'll let me," I mumbled.

"This isn't up to him anymore," he said resolutely.

"Jasper," I looked up at him earnestly, "if he won't let me make this choice, what makes you think he'll let anyone else make it for me?"

"He will be made to _see_," Jasper hissed, and I could feel his acrimony rolling toward me involuntarily, soaking into my body.

"It doesn't matter anyway," I said a little more forcefully than I meant to. "I have to stay human for Charlie and for the treaty with the wolves. I can't hurt my father anymore, and I can't let any of you get killed for me, not when I can prevent it."

Jasper swore under his breath. "_I_ made no treaty with those mongrels."

I sighed and gripped my head, trying to force away the impending stress headache. "Please stop, Jasper." I realized I sounded exhausted. Old. "This is just the way my life is. I can only do my best with the hand I've been dealt."

I checked my watch.

5:31 P.M.

Sunday

May 23

"I need to go make Charlie's dinner," I said, deflated. "Do you think Edward will be long? I need to hurry before Charlie gets home."

"Take his car," Jasper said, flitting to a side table to retrieve a set of keys and blurring back to hand them to me. "He won't mind. Unless you'd rather have me drive you."

"Um, I've got it, thanks." I took the proffered keys from his fingers. "Someone will have to drive him back to pick it up in case Charlie gets there before him." I wondered at the look in Jasper's eyes, like he was contemplating violence. It did not feel threatening to me in any way, but I was curious. "You okay, Jasper?"

He smiled wryly at me. "Just fine, Bella. Go back to Charlie's. You've got your phone in case of an emergency, right?" I bobbed my head once—I always had my phone and knife—and Jasper inclined his chin in acknowledgement. "Emmett will drive Edward back for the car."

"Okay. Thanks, Jasper. See you later."

He nodded his farewell, and I went to the front yard, where Edward had parked his car for the day. The drive back into Forks went by much quicker in the Volvo than it ever had in my truck, though I didn't flagrantly violate traffic laws. I sighed when I saw the cruiser in the driveway and pulled on the long-sleeve shirt I'd left on the passenger seat. Charlie had clearly beaten me back home and had probably already ordered pizza. I trudged up the porch steps and walked inside.

"Charlie," I called, "if you give me twenty minutes I can make spaghetti and salad."

The house was entirely too quiet.

I froze in place with my hand still on the doorknob, listening as hard as I could, even sniffing the air for the scent of alcohol. "Charlie?" His sidearm was still holstered and hanging from the peg by the door—I'd always thought that was a foolish place to keep it, but this once it was a relief, because it meant he wasn't carrying it. I thought about the rest of the guns…

"In the kitchen, Bella," he called back. His voice was tired, but not slurred or fuzzy. I held my phone in my hand, ready to hit number three on my speed dial (Jasper), and treaded carefully to the rear of the house, still smelling attentively for the scent of gun oil.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, peeking around the doorway at him to examine him before walking into the kitchen. The table was empty, there were still no traces of liquor in the air, and his eyes were clear. The breath I hadn't realized I was holding slipped out in relief. "Sorry I'm late starting supper. Jasper and I got caught up in a conversation." I worked to raise my happiness from the earlier part of the day and let it spread across my face as I tucked my phone back in my pocket. "How was the fishing?"

"Not bad." His voice was hollow. "The deep freezer is getting full."

"Hmm. Maybe we should have fish for dinner, then," I said, trying to keep the smile painted on my face.

"Sounds good," Charlie replied perfunctorily.

I slid out of my shoes and moved through the kitchen, almost gliding to and fro as I retrieved ingredients, pulled open drawers and cabinets, poured extra virgin olive oil into a pan, chopped lettuce, sprinkled sea salt. I might never be as graceful as my vampires, but this was my dance, my ballet, my hunt, and the only way I had to show Charlie I still loved him despite everything. I felt him watching me, and I smiled more genuinely, hoping he understood. Before long he had a full plate and a glass of tea in front of him.

"Here you go, Charlie," I said pleasantly, handing him his silverware and sitting down at my own place. "Enjoy." The corners of his eyes crinkled in thanks.

We ate quietly, as always, eyes on our plates. I didn't much care for my food, but I couldn't get away with defrosting yet another steak when there was fresh fish in the house. At the end of the meal Charlie pushed his chair back and rubbed his belly in the universal male symbol for contentment. "That was delicious, Bella."

"Thanks, Charlie."

They were the same words we said to each other every time I made dinner. I could feel the little joy I'd been struggling to hold on to slipping away. My smile faded, and I took his plate and glass from him without another word.

"Bella," he said after I'd put away the leftovers and began tending to the pile-up in the sink, "why don't you call me 'Dad' anymore?"

I hadn't given it much thought, but he was correct: I hadn't called him "Dad" since that awful night. In my head, I heard echoes of the terrible names he'd called _me_. "I don't know," I replied dully, rinsing a coffee mug left over from breakfast.

"I wish you would," he said hopefully.

"I wish a lot of things," I said tonelessly, scouring a frying pan. "I guess we just have to live with the disappointment."

He didn't speak, but he didn't get up, either. His eyes followed my every movement.

"Did you go to the A.A. meeting after all?" I asked, just trying to fill the silence with something other than the sounds of water and the scrubbing and clinking of ceramic. I was supposed to be here to help him in some small way, and I hadn't done enough toward that end.

Charlie cleared his throat and wouldn't meet my eyes when I pivoted around to look at him. I sighed and turned back to my work. "You don't have to be scared, you know. They won't brainwash you."

"You don't know anything about it," Charlie scoffed defensively.

"Renee's old boyfriend did," I answered casually, trying not to let his gruff demeanor frighten me. "When I was fourteen, she dated a recovering alcoholic. It didn't last long because she didn't want to be with someone who couldn't have a glass of wine once in a while, but I remember he told me most newcomers to A.A. are scared or ashamed."

"Huh," Charlie grunted with clear asperity. "Sounds like a bunch of cowards to me. He say how they got over it?"

I stilled for a moment, reminiscing about Santiago, a smiling man who always smelled of cigarettes. "Repetition," I finally remembered. "Go enough times, and you start to see that it's not as terrible as you thought, and nobody's trying to control your mind." Charlie only huffed and rolled his eyes, so I dropped it. Clearly I'd inherited my avoidance tendency from him.

When the dishes were all done I turned to wipe down the stove and countertop. Charlie was still staring at me when I leaned over to wipe crumbs off the table.

"What happened to your neck?" he said suddenly.

I froze.

My make-up. I'd forgotten to touch up my make-up before walking in the house.

"What are you talking about, Charlie?" I said, quickly turning back to the sink to rinse out the dishcloth.

"It looks like something bit you," he said, his voice full of concern. "The marks are all spaced the same distance apart, like…fangs."

I couldn't help it. Laughter exploded from me, like it had been waiting all day for an excuse to jump out and surprise me. "Fangs?" I said between chortles, turning my head to the side so I could still look at him without exposing my neck again.

Charlie's mouth twisted, and then he was chuckling along with me. "Yeah, I guess that does sound far-fetched."

"Are you sure you didn't have any whiskey today when you were out on the water?" I said offhandedly. It was, I knew, the perfect deflection, especially in light of what we'd just talked about.

"Bella," Charlie replied, serious again. "I promised."

"Just making sure," I said, raising my hands up a little and shrugging. "You come home talking like that again, and I might have to call Billy to babysit you next time you want to go fishing."

Charlie snorted and went to the living room. I looked out the kitchen window and exhaled in relief. "That was close," I whispered to myself.

"Hey Bella," Charlie called. "Why is Edward's car parked out front? Didn't he drop you off?"

I checked my watch. It was 7:30; a good two hours since I'd left the Cullen house. I walked to the living room and stood next to Charlie, peeking out the window. "He and his brother had to run an errand while I was there, so I used his car. Emmett is supposed to drive him back to pick it up when they're done." I wondered what could be keeping him. He didn't usually leave me alone this long—doing so was agony for both of us. I absentmindedly drew one arm across my chest, clutching my elbow.

"When is he coming back? I don't want his car parked outside my house all night." Charlie sounded irritated.

I rolled my eyes. "Why, because it's not ugly enough to fit in with the cruiser and the truck?"

"No, smart-aleck," Charlie frowned. "I don't want the neighbors to gossip."

I laughed sarcastically—he was forever concerned about the wrong part of a situation. "I borrowed Edward's _car_. Believe me, that's nothing compared to what I have to deal with at school on a daily basis."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, looking concerned again.

"Oh come on, Charlie," I said, folding my arms, shaking my head, and thinking of the sheep-like humans I detested. "The police chief's daughter went crazy, got shipped off to a mental facility for a month and a half, disappeared for two months after _that_, and then shows up out of the blue looking like death warmed over. Even the school staff looks at me like I'm some kind of deformed animal. How do you not understand this?"

"I didn't know it would be like that. I thought you'd…you know…" he stumbled around what he meant.

"Go back to normal?" I supplied. If he honestly thought that was possible, he was just as bad as Renee. "In what parallel universe was that ever going to happen?"

"Doesn't it bother you, that they're so ugly with you?" Charlie asked sadly.

"Of course it does," I replied softly, looking down at my perpetually covered arms. "It's like that every day, every hour, every minute that I'm around them. They never stop. Only Edward, Alice, and Angela treat me like a regular person. It hurts, but I just take it as best I can."

"How…why do you do it, Bella?" Charlie asked earnestly.

I looked into his brown eyes, a copy of my own. I opened my mouth and told him the part of the truth he needed most. "For you, Charlie. That's the only reason I'm here. Because I love you."

Charlie's eyes went red, and he sniffed and looked away. "I love you too, kid," he said roughly.

"I'll be studying in my room," I said after a minute. "Finals are coming up." Charlie said nothing, and I crept up the stairs, wondering if Edward's long, pain-inducing absence had anything to do with the look on Jasper's face when I left. Whatever Jasper had to say, I was certain he'd be entirely unsuccessful.

* * *

*malneirophrenia: In a state of depression following a nightmare.


	20. Having a Say

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own the Twilight Saga or its characters, and I'm still not talking about real, living people or a real St. Vincent's Hospital.

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, folks, but I think (or at least, I hope) that you'll appreciate the extra time I took with this chapter. I've been waiting so long to give this chapter to you.

**Music:** "Crazy Baby" by Joan Osborne, "Bodies" by Drowning Pool, "Possum Kingdom" by The Toadies

* * *

Chapter 20 Having a Say

_If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world._

~C.S. Lewis

It burns, it burns, it _burns_…

_Tell me where it hurts…_

I was shrieking and writhing, scrambling to pull my shirt open and yank the lava-hot stones out of my shaking body. McCoig's evil face was imprinted in my eyelids, howling with laughter between whispers and stone words and burning daggers that scorched my heart away, hellfire and brimstone and smiles and damnation, and every moment I was pleading, pleading, let me die, please just let me die…

"Bella, _please_ wake up, love," Edward's voice begged, sounding more desperate than usual. "Charlie wants to come check on you."

I grabbed at the ice cold hand on my face and pulled it between my breasts, needing the frozen skin to alleviate the charring sensation that left a smoking pit in the center of my chest. His skin worked, reducing my screams to pained hisses as he murmured how much he loved me, that he was so sorry, that he wished he could take it all away…

Eventually the pain faded, and I was able to lie still in Edward's arms, crying softly into his chest as he covered me with a bed sheet. It was still dark outside; a ray of moonlight filtered through the trees and shone in my window, casting white spots across my desk.

I touched the Indiglo button on my watch.

5:37 A.M.

Thursday

May 27

_Damn_, I thought. _Should I go back to sleep and try not to have the dream again, or should I just get up? _"Is Charlie still awake?" I whispered shakily.

"Yes, love, but I think he'll fall asleep very soon."

My father and I hadn't spoken too much in the last few days—I'd been studying obsessively for exams so I wouldn't have to spend one second longer than necessary in that school. I sighed and thought about what this must seem like to Charlie.

_I don't think I can live through seeing you try harder._

"How did I get here?" I mused.

"Bella," Edward said, confused, "we're in your room. Are you having a flashback?"

"No, Edward," I murmured. "I mean how did I get _here_, back to this point in my life? I wake up screaming every morning, I'm a pariah at school, and Charlie is worried about my mental state." It was like January all over again. My voice even sounded flat.

_I just want you not to be miserable._

"What can I do, Bella?" Edward asked, full of pleading and despair. "Please, tell me what you want me to do. I'll do anything to make this stop."

I shut my eyes and inhaled sharply. He didn't really mean that. There was no point in asking. "How about some breakfast?" I suggested, though I had no appetite.

"What would you like?" he asked. I may have been imagining quiet desperation in his normally dulcet voice.

"I don't care," I answered dully. "I just don't want to go back to sleep."

Edward held me a minute longer, thinking. Charlie's renewed snores floated down the hall. "Get dressed," Edward finally said. "I'm taking you out for breakfast."

"No thanks," I declined. "I don't much feel like it." I rolled over, facing the wall instead of him. "I guess I'm not really hungry anyway."

"Would you like to go home?" Edward asked. I recognized the same hopeful tenor Charlie had used when asking me to call him Dad again.

"I'd only have an hour there at most, and then I'd have to leave," I reminded him. "What's the point?"

"The point is to be with people who love you, Bella," Edward answered softly. "Everyone wants to see you. You haven't been back all week."

"It's not enough time," I replied, still staring unseeingly at the wall. "And we'll all just miss each other more after I'm gone."

I felt Edward's forehead rest on my arm. "They're not humans, Bella. They'll always miss you just as much, if not more so, the longer you're away. It's not something that diminishes for our kind."

"I know the feeling," I whispered back. Tears fell silently onto my pillow, but not silently enough. Edward's perfect hearing picked up even the sound of salt water dripping onto fabric.

"Why are you crying?" Edward murmured, horrified.

Jasper was right: Edward _was_ an absolute moron.

"My chest still burns a little from the dream," I answered. It wasn't really a lie, depending on how one looked at it. "Just hold me for a while, please."

Edward pulled me back into the circle of his arms and chest, like he did every morning. I'd actually cried myself to sleep early Sunday evening, before he even came for his car, which meant we'd gone through our routine twice on Monday morning, all thoughts of my happy weekend lost to the screams. We'd only talked a little that morning, our brief conversation ending in tears. Even after four days, we still hadn't spoken much about Sunday, but I was fine with that, because I was too brow-beaten and fatigued to deal with it. Today we lay together in silence, awaiting the dawn, until it was time for Edward to retrieve his car and change clothes.

This day was harder for some reason. It wasn't sunny outside, like the day before, when I'd worn one of Edward's shirts to school. Edward hadn't gone hunting, preferring to keep watch over me through other's thoughts from the woods near the parking lot when I refused to ditch school with him. I'd sat alone in the cafeteria; that had been a long, awful lunch period. Angela, already halfway through her meal by the time I paid for my food, had tried to invite me over, but a single look from Lauren had been enough to silence Angela and me. I had sat alone at the Cullen table, keeping my eyes down so I wouldn't meet the ubiquitous stares, thinking unpleasant thoughts in Lauren's direction. P.E. had been hell, but at least I'd felt Edward's eyes on me from the trees. And he'd taken such care of me at Charlie's after school. He'd even kissed me, just once, before I went to sleep.

But today, this day, I just couldn't feel any kind of lift in my spirits at all. Even though Edward kept his arm around me from the moment we left his car, even though Alice was in a good mood about some secret thing—Memorial Day weekend, maybe? I'd heard that phrase being thrown around in the halls—I couldn't shake the gloom, like a thick, damp fog weighing me down and sapping me of all strength and vitality. Paying attention in class was difficult.

At lunch I sat in my usual hunched position, attempting to enjoy the feeling of Edward playing with my hair, when three things happened very quickly:

Edward's and Alice's faces suddenly contorted into vicious, frightening masks of hate and fury, issuing barely controlled hisses.

Lauren cackled at the top of her lungs, her evil laugh ringing across the cafeteria like a poorly tuned bell.

And Angela jumped to her feet, threw Lauren a bitter glare that was very out of character for her (but still looked tame compared to Alice's face), picked up her tray, and made a beeline straight for my table with Ben Cheney hot on her heels.

Edward and Alice saw Angela coming and hurried to compose themselves into something that wouldn't frighten her and Ben away. I looked up at Angela in shock as she dropped her tray on the table next to Alice's untouched food and addressed me. "May we sit with you, please?"

I blinked once. "I-If you like?"

"From now on?" Angela pressed. Ben threw an ugly look back at Lauren's table before setting his tray down beside Angela's. Austin, his best friend, had already gotten up from Lauren's table, tossed his tray in the garbage, and stormed out of the cafeteria.

I looked into Angela's normally kind eyes. Her face rippled with changing emotions. Shock. Disgust. Outrage. Determination. Compassion. Whatever Lauren had said must have been disturbing indeed. The object of her comment was obvious.

"Of course, Angela," I said firmly. "Have a seat."

I felt Edward squeeze my shoulder ever so gently.

"So are you ready for Varner's Calculus final?" Alice asked Angela conversationally. "I feel like I've been studying forever."

"Um, yeah," Angela stammered, flustered by being addressed directly by a Cullen. I wondered if proximity to a vampire made her uneasy, like it used to. "I know just what you mean."

"I hope he doesn't throw anything new at us," I joined in, giving Angela a smile.

Edward's voice echoed in my consciousness: _It made them something worth preserving._

Yes, it did.

I went through sixth and seventh hours fluctuating between a mild happiness that Angela and those few others had chosen not to join in my slander and a raging curiosity about what terrible thing Lauren had said. Edward and Alice would never tell me, I knew. I had just about made up my mind to let it go when the end of gym class rolled around.

Lauren had thrown me no more than a few scornful glances at the beginning of gym and throughout our sprints. Once again, I'd smoked her on the field. Usually I was the last out of the locker room, so I expected Lauren to be gone by the time I was done changing back into street clothes, but today she lingered. Waiting. For me.

"So Bella," Lauren said, leaning against my locker, the corners of her mouth upturned. "I heard you lived on your own in Pasco or Spokane or something." She didn't say it rudely at all, but there was something…familiar around her eyes I didn't trust, something setting off my flight instinct. _Anticipation._

"Yes, in Pasco," I replied simply, readjusting my bag so it would sit more comfortably on my back and backing away toward the exit. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Is it true you had to get a job?" she asked casually, hands swinging back and forth in her black sweater pockets, giving her the appearance of a vulture flapping its wings.

"Most people have to work if they expect to support themselves, Lauren," I answered, remembering how hard it had been for Renee to buy my school clothes every year on a kindergarten teacher's salary and child support checks. I knew Lauren was from a rich family that had inherited their fortune ages ago from the timber industry.

"Is it true you were a whore?"

I stared across the room at her incredulously, my pack sliding off my shoulders and stopping at my elbows. Her voice contained no hostility whatsoever, but she grinned like the Cheshire cat. I said nothing. I couldn't believe the words were coming out of her mouth.

"So you _were_ a little sex toy, weren't you?" she laughed cruelly.

_You're nothing but a toy. You're worthless._

Raging white fire flashed across my body. My bag landed on the concrete floor with a heavy thud. I twitched. Blinked.

My hands were curled into claws reaching hungrily for her throat, and my face twisted in an animalistic grimace. The girl was wide-eyed with fear, pressed against the locker as if she would have liked to crawl inside it to hide. She was only inches from my grasp.

Tiny, iron fingers were clutching my shoulders, restraining me.

"Tell me one thing," I snarled at the quivering human, "just one good thing you've ever done for anyone else in your pathetic, miserable little life, and I won't rip out your throat." I strained against the thin, granite arms that had pinned my hands to my torso.

"She's not worth it," a beautiful, feminine voice hissed in my ear.

"I'm calling the cops!" the girl gasped, reaching for the phone poking out of her purse.

"Her father is the chief of police, you blithering idiot," said the hissing voice. Alice.

"She just threatened me!" How anyone could sound so whiny and frightened at the same time was beyond me. I felt my body shake with my own rampaging growls.

"No one heard her, no one saw her, and no one touched you," Alice said with mocking authority.

"She's crazy," the vile girl said wildly. "Look at her! She should be locked up."

"Do you really think Chief Swan is going to arrest her solely on _your_ word? The girl who's getting suspended for telling the whole school his only daughter is a prostitute?" Alice asked, all hostile delight.

The girl blinked. "Suspended?"

Alice laughed derisively. "Mr. Greene got an earful today from several people, including some of your…_intimate _acquaintances. Your parents will be getting a call very soon."

The wretched thing swallowed loudly and glared at me. "I'm not done with you, skank."

Alice's skin temperature dropped a few degrees. She twirled me behind her, taking care to lock one hand around my wrists, and slid closer to the contemptible little twit until their faces were centimeters apart. Alice took a deep breath, and I watched with malicious glee as the human girl's pupils dilated and all the blood drained from her face.

"Try it," Alice said, quiet and lovely and promising endless suffering.

The girl squeaked and edged away, trying to run for the exit around the corner. I heard her scream softly at the doorway. _Lauren._ Her name was Lauren.

Alice and I reached the corner just in time to see Lauren cowering away from Edward, his tall, rigid form blocking her in, his eyes black with fury. He glanced up at me, then stepped back to allow the terrified girl to pass. Alice towed me to the door, and Edward pulled me into his arms while Alice grabbed my backpack.

"_What were you thinking?_" he hissed furiously in my ear.

But I was past answering. I could only shake with rage and clench my eyes shut against the red light everything seemed to be bathed in.

"Let's take her home, Edward," Alice suggested rapidly. "She should see Jasper right away."

Two sets of cold hands lifted me by the waist and half-carried, half-dragged me to the car. I was placed in the backseat and clutched close to a breathing statue. Velvet sounds buzzed unintelligibly in my ear. My eyes remained shut the entire time.

It seemed only a moment later that I was sitting on Esme's white couch, curled into a tight ball, my eyes roaming over the room. The entire family was home for a change, even Carlisle. Peculiar. Most of them were gathered around Alice, who explained rapidly what had taken place. Only Edward remained at my side, arms thrown around my frozen figure, his musical voice imploring me to say something, anything. In the background I heard Emmett's roaring laughter, followed by a thudding sound when Rosalie smacked him across the back of the head and yelled at him. "This is serious, you idiot!"

Something inside me swelled up, pushing away everything else. I had no more reluctant acceptance for the gossiping simpletons at school, no more ire for Lauren, no more fear mingled with duty for Charlie, no more desire to honor the treaty I _never made in the first place_, no more willingness to patiently go along with whatever was needed of me. It was all forced away by this strange, expanding bubble of something I could not identify.

And then Edward tried to kiss his favorite spot on my head.

"Why did you bring me here?" I hissed suddenly, grimacing in his perfect, beautiful, shocked face. I was only dimly aware of the abrupt silence.

"Bella," Edward said, bewildered, "you were out of control. I thought—"

"No, why did you _ever_ bring me here?" I growled. "Why did you bring me to this place and make me part of a family if you were only going to take me away from them?"

"Bella," Edward answered, his voice strangled, "I'm not taking you away. You haven't wanted to come here at all this week."

"Why should I?" I hissed again. "So I can fall in love with them even more and have everyone hurt that much worse when I'm gone? So I can finally start calling Esme 'Mom' just in time to look old enough to be her sister?" I drew a quick breath, steeling myself. "Or am I really just your human pet after all?"

"How _dare_ you say that to me, Bella!" Edward exclaimed angrily, flitting off the couch to tower over me. "How _dare_ you question what I feel for you? I love you. We all love you. How can you say such a terrible—?"

"How dare _I_?" I sneered back up at him. "You're so caught up in what _you_ think my life should be, you don't give a damn what _I_ think it should be. You keep telling me I always have a choice, but you want to take away the only choice I truly want to make."

"Bella, we've been over this before," Edward said blackly, trying to regain his composure. "I won't risk the possibility of taking your soul."

"Ah yes, the impasse," I said mockingly. "You do realize that I know six other vampires, don't you?"

I heard the growl building in his chest. "No one would dare."

"Like hell we wouldn't," Emmett snarled from across the room, surprising me. "You already know how we feel about this."

"She is not just yours anymore, Edward," Esme said firmly. "She belongs to all of us now."

"None of you will touch her," Edward snarled, twisting around to hover defensively in front of me.

"I will," Alice promised. "You want this as much as she does."

"_No_!" Edward roared terrifyingly. I glanced at Jasper behind Edward's back and raised an eyebrow significantly. Edward's stance relaxed instantly; he turned to glare down at me incredulously, as though I'd used his own arsenal against him.

"Is the idea so repulsive to you, Edward?" I asked quietly, feeling Jasper help me regain a measure of control. "Would it be so terrible to spend more than a single lifetime with me?"

"No, Bella," he whispered. "Of course not. But I can't let you ruin your future."

"Edward, you've told me time and time again that you won't ever leave me," I said reasonably. "Aside from traveling the world, what kind of future do you see for us if you don't change me?"

He quieted and seemed to think. "You can go to college. Any school you want. You can have a career. And a home."

"Don't give me the college excuse again." I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all. "You've been to college a dozen times, and Carlisle's had the same career for centuries. I don't need to be human to get a degree or have a writing career, and I already have a home with you and with them," I assured him, gesturing to everyone else.

"You wouldn't have to be with me," he said in a low, pained voice after a short pause. "If you ever wanted something more than what I can give you, I would understand."

I snorted. "That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. There is nothing I want more than to be with you forever."

"Bella," he shut his eyes, as if admitting a great weakness. "I want that too. I do."

For the tiniest space of a moment, my heart surged again with something different, something good. Hope. "Then why won't you let us be happy?"

"Do you know what my family would trade to have the opportunity you want to throw away?" he challenged, gesturing behind him. "You deserve a normal human life." A quick glance at the growling Rosalie revealed that she was baring her teeth, but not at me—at _him._

"When have I ever been like normal humans, Edward?" I demanded. "I don't think like them, I don't act like them, I can't even be around them anymore. Was today not proof enough of that? Open your eyes and _see me!_"

"You're different, I'll admit," Edward allowed, glancing back at the family for a moment. "But you're still human. You still have your soul. I can't just steal that away from you."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" I reminded him. "You have one too. I thought you understood."

"But what if you're wrong?" he cried, full of dread. "What if you lose your soul for me?

"Let me get this straight," I said heatedly. "I'm supposed to spend the next sixty years getting unnecessarily old and decrepit to satisfy your conscience, to make _you_ feel better about what happens to _my_ soul?"

"Bella—"

"No, Edward," I cut him off. "What happens when people think I'm your mother, or your _grand_mother?"

"You know that doesn't matter to me," he promised.

"Oh no? Well did you ever stop and think it might mean something to _me_?" I stood up and shouted. "What do you think it's going to do to me in twenty years, when I'm registering you for the first day of high school and introducing you to everyone as my _son_, knowing all I want to do is take you home and spend the whole day kissing you? What about in forty years, when we're out grocery shopping or just going for a walk, and everyone sees the way I look at the boy I've claimed is my _grandson_? Did you ever stop and think what that might do to my _soul_, Edward?

"Hell, forget the outward appearances!" I screeched, standing up on the couch cushion now so I could tower over him for once. "Even if we never go near another human again, I'll spend the rest of my life dying to make love to you and never be allowed to do more than kiss you for ten seconds at a time because of all your careful rules. Is that ever supposed to be enough for me or for you?"

He stared up at me, his black eyes unreadable.

"And so help me, what happens in sixty years when I succumb to Alzheimer's like my grandparents? First I won't know where I am, then I won't know who you are, then I won't remember how to behave in public, then I won't remember how to use the bathroom, until finally I just won't remember how to breathe." I saw the horror in his face as he pictured me slowly deteriorating into a senseless mass of wrinkled flesh with no brain activity. "And that's _if_ I live that long, _if_ all those damn drugs those monsters gave me haven't permanently damaged my liver or my brain. We might not even get thirty years before it's all over.

"Is that the life you want for me, Edward? Is that the _death_ you think I deserve?"

Edward stood perfectly still, his mouth slightly agape in a mask of shock.

"You want to know the last thing I saw before I died?" I said more quietly, almost laughing scornfully as hot tears flew from my eyes and landed on him. "You. Your face. I thought of you and let the pain have me. I knew in the depths of my heart that you didn't want me, and so I saw you as my icy, indifferent angel. It was the only thing I wanted, to be with you before I died, to have just a little peace within the agony before I escaped a lifetime of hell on earth.

"And then you came for me," I sobbed, "and you weren't icy, and you weren't indifferent, and you told me how much you loved me. And it was the most beautiful thing, to be saved by an angel who loved me. But it was a lie," I hissed. "You don't want to save me, Edward. You just want me to die slower."

"Bella," Edward whispered. "How could you think such things?"

"What am I supposed to think, Edward?" I cried. "You get that awful look on your face every time I say the word 'forever.' You've never, not once, said you would change me. You didn't take the opportunity to change me yourself even when I was _dying in your arms_!" I stressed each word. "Don't you want me for more than a few decades?"

"Don't say that, Bella! You know I want you, but I can't—"

"Words!" I resumed shouting. "All you have are words, Edward. If you love me so much, do something about it!"

"I won't make you into a devil!" he yelled at me, suddenly pulling at his hair.

"No devil could ever love me the way you do!" I screamed back. My heart thumped out a jagged rhythm. "The devils are the ones who turned me into a wild animal. You and your family are the ones who tried to heal me again. You're so blind, you can't even tell the difference between the devils and the angels!"

"Edward," Carlisle called calmly, "this is her choice." Edward and I both looked to his face, and his gaze flitted from my eyes to Edward's as he spoke to me. "Bella, I will change you whenever you're ready. You have my word."

I looked down at Edward. He looked almost helpless, defeated. "I love you, Edward," I whispered before turning to Carlisle. Without another word, I stepped off the couch and walked toward the man who would be my father.

Edward snared me, pulling me away from my family. "_Wait_," he whispered. "I can't let you do this. Think of Charlie. He needs you. You have to stay human for Charlie."

Edward still wasn't completely convinced it was safe for me to _live_ with Charlie; I could think of only one reason he would use my father as an excuse for me to stay human. In that moment, I couldn't feel my heartbeat anymore. I went limp in Edward's arms, my eyelids fluttered and closed, and my shoulders slumped. I heard low hissing sounds and Jasper's sudden intake of breath from across the room.

My voice was only a breath of air that carried away the very last of my hope. "You should have just let me die, Edward. What was all this for?"

He dropped his hold on me as though I'd scalded him. I had just enough coordination not to fall. "It was for you," he answered, stunned.

"You're a liar, Edward," Jasper said coldly, his voice unexpectedly right beside me, his large hand on my arm, holding me up. "Every step you have taken has been for _you._"

"Bella," Edward murmured, ignoring his brother and spinning me around to face him, making me dizzy again. "Can you _please_ just—?"

We were interrupted by the sound of Carlisle's pager. It was such an oddly normal sound in this house of myth that I turned toward it, distracted. Carlisle pulled the small rectangular device out of his pocket and read the message quickly. His already pale face turned a chalky white, and Edward stiffened beside me. Carlisle looked up at me suddenly. "Bella," he said quickly, "it's Charlie."

* * *

**A/N 2**: For those of you wondering, yes, some hospitals still use pagers rather than cellular phones. I checked.


	21. Ananke

Chapter 21 Ananke

_Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do._

~Gian Carlo Menotti

"Charlie?" I asked, confused.

"Get her to the hospital," Carlisle ordered. He flitted out the door, and I realized he was running to his destination rather than bothering with a car.

Without a word of explanation, Edward scooped me up, and he, Alice, and Jasper raced with me to Edward's car. Alice and Jasper sat up front, with Jasper flooring the gas pedal before we'd cleared the first tree.

"What's going on?" I shouted wildly at anyone. "What's wrong with Charlie?"

"He had a heart attack, Bella," Edward answered quietly, still trying to hold me.

My own heart was silent.

"How did you not _see_ this, Alice?" Edward demanded.

"In case you haven't noticed, we've been busy for the last few hours, Edward," Alice retorted. "And you've had me watching for a dozen other things for months. I didn't think I had to watch Charlie, at least not today…and not for…I can't be certain what the cause was, but I can't see what else it could be other than…I don't even know how he found out…the news doesn't hit the press until tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I shrieked hoarsely.

Alice paused for the length of one breath and twisted in her seat, looking me full in the face. "Remember when I said it probably wouldn't kill Charlie if he found out about what happened to you at the hospital?"

I could only nod once; my throat was too full of dread. She'd just said _kill._

"Peter McCoig and James Warren were arrested this morning," she said rapidly. "After your hypnosis sessions, Carlisle called the State Department of Health anonymously so they wouldn't hurt anyone else. The hospital's been under investigation for months, and the state attorney finally decided to move forward with charges. That's why everyone is home—we wanted to tell you ourselves before word got out. It's not supposed to be in the news yet, and they aren't releasing specific details about the individual crimes, certainly nothing about you. I didn't think Charlie would learn anything that might…" She kept talking, but I didn't hear any more.

Of course she wouldn't have known Charlie would find out. Like Edward, Alice thought she knew everything. But she wasn't a cop's daughter. She didn't know my father had friends in the Seattle Police Department and the Washington State Police who would have thought to call him when a major bust went down at the hospital his only child had been committed to. She didn't understand the way police officers share case details with each other, and sometimes with their friends or families, that they wouldn't tell the press. She didn't know just how relentless Charlie could be when something bothered him _enough_. And most of all, she didn't know that Charlie had already seen the scars on my neck.

"Alice," I said, an odd calm settling over me, "is Charlie going to be okay?"

She did not answer.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Bella," Carlisle whispered, one cool, heavy arm around my shoulders. The two of us were alone in one of those tiny rooms some hospitals have for families who are about to hear bad news. "I worked as fast as I could, I tried every technique I know, but I couldn't save him." He lowered his voice unnecessarily. "I thought about changing him for you, but there were too many people around, and there wasn't enough time."

"Do you know what caused it?" I asked. Did McCoig and Jimmy kill Charlie? Did I kill my own father with my weakness, my danger magnet?

"Bella," Carlisle said patiently, "you need to understand that your father's arteries were clogged with cholesterol, the product of a lifetime of poor diet and little exercise. I can't be certain, of course, but now that I look back on the sporadic interactions I've had with him these last few years, I'd say the signs were already there."

"Did he die because he found out what happened to me?" I was flat again. Numb. Cold.

"He died because his circulatory system couldn't handle the strain of pumping blood anymore. He had a coronary artery spasm. It's something that could have happened to him at any time. At least it was fast, and he didn't suffer."

A quick, painless death. I would have been almost relieved if I could have made myself believe it, but I knew a kind lie when I heard one by now.

"Is there anyone you'd like me to call for you?"

"Call?" I asked, sounding as hollow as I felt. I was the only family Charlie had; who would I possibly call?

"Billy, or your mother?"

My mother?

"Esme. I want Esme." I want my mommy.

He moved his hands at vampire speed, buzzed in honey tones into his silver phone, and turned to me. "She'll be here in ten minutes."

Ten minutes.

_Do you have any idea how relieved he must be just to hear your voice again? He'll be happier speaking to you for a few minutes at a time than he has been the whole time you've been away. Trust me, love, this is the right thing to do._

"You should wait until she gets here before you go see him."

See him?

_I want to see Charlie._

_Your father visits every Saturday._

_I want to see him _now_._

_You can wait three days, can't you?_

"If it's all right with you, I'll ask Deputy Mark to call Billy Black. He'd want to know."

Know?

_Charlie doesn't know anything yet…he's better than he would be if he thought you'd been kidnapped._

_I can't see him yet, can I?_

_No, love, not yet._

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

Do…

_Do you need any money?_

_No thanks, Dad…I know how to take care of myself. Don't worry, I'll be fine._

_Can I at least come see you?_

_No. I'm not ready to see you right now._

"Would you like me to call the funeral home?"

_I'm coming to get you, I'm bringing you home, and I don't want to hear any arguments._

_Sorry to disappoint you, Charlie, but that's not how it works._

"Bella?"

_You still love me, doncha, Bells? Please, tell me you love me._

_I love you, Charlie._

* * *

"Come, Bella. I'm taking you home now."

"Okay."

* * *

Bathroom.

Mirror.

Cover.

* * *

"Bella dear, I called Renee for you. She says she's very sorry, but Phil broke his femur. She won't be able to leave him for some time."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Just sign your name, Miss Swan, and we'll begin the embalming process and all the arrangements as per Mrs. Cullen's instructions."

"Go ahead, Bella. Sign right here."

"Okay."

* * *

Bottle.

Water.

Swallow.

* * *

"Miss Swan, you are your father's sole beneficiary. In accordance with the terms of his policy, you will receive a one hundred thousand dollar lump sum. Please sign here and we can move forward with issuing a check for your benefits as soon as we receive a copy of the death certificate."

"Here's my pen, Bella."

"Thank you."

Casserole dish.

* * *

Microwave.

Fork.

Chew.

* * *

"Bella, we have to meet with your new attorney today. Lift up your chin so I can apply the concealer."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Pen.

Sign.

_Bella Swan._

Swan.

Wrong?

* * *

"Angela came by to see you; I told her you were sleeping. Her mother sent you some food. Would you like some?"

"No thank you."

* * *

Granite.

Water.

Sponge.

Wipe.

* * *

"Bella dear, Alice bought you a dress for the funeral. Would you like some help getting ready?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

Car.

Seatbelt.

_Click._

* * *

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

_Isn't there anything I can do to get you to come home?_

_I doubt it, Charlie. I'm settling in here._

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters."

_I just miss you so much. I wish you'd at least come for a visit._

_I know. I miss you too. Maybe I'll come for a visit in a few months._

"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

_You can empty that bottle, never buy another one, and I'll move back in with you…_

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."

…_if you even think about sending a private detective to find me, I'm never going back._

"For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

_I love you too, Bells. I'm glad you're here, even if it's just for a little while._

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."

_I've waited months to see my daughter, and you're not going to ruin the only time I have with her by playing the victim._

"Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."

_You're spoiling me._

_Of course I am, Dad._

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

_How…why do you do it, Bella?_

_For you, Charlie. That's the only reason I'm here. Because I love you._

* * *

Voices.

Footsteps.

"…so sad…poor thing…"

Chairs scraping.

Food smells.

"…table six…beautiful service…"

Plates and silverware clinking.

Murmurs.

"…smart enough to know what she'd be getting into. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't make an exception."

"Jacob, your great-grandfather's pact with the cold ones was clear. We cannot allow her to be changed. We would have no choice but to go to war."

"Of course we have a choice. We can choose not to hurt her family."

"_Charlie_ is her family. Or he was…"

"Sam, _look_ at her. She has nothing left. Her own mother didn't come up to be with her. She's empty and broken, and she'll be all alone. Can't you see what those monsters did to her?"

"I thought your whole point was that the blood drinkers—"

"No, you moron, those people in that hospital, the ones who got arrested. Mark told my dad the things that didn't make it to the papers; it was disgusting… _That's_ who she needed protection from, and everyone let her down except the vampires. You know that female's been taking care of Bella around the clock? She even arranged this funeral. No one else in the whole damn town stepped up like that, even though Charlie's been watching over all of them for years. Let her have this, Sam."

"Jacob, we can't just ignore…"

* * *

"Bella, I spoke to Mr. Greene. He said in light of your grades and the current circumstances, you're exempt from all your final exams."

"Okay."

* * *

Broom.

Sweep.

* * *

"Bella dear, some flowers just arrived for you. These are from the Newton boy, and those are from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory."

"That's nice."

* * *

Shirt.

Fold.

Basket.

* * *

"Bella, I'm just going to step out for a few minutes. Carlisle needs to draw some blood, okay sweetheart?"

Sleeve.

Arm.

Fist.

_I'll be good._

* * *

"_Dodo dinette, dodo, dino. Ma petite poulette—_leave us _be_, Edward. She needs to sleep for more than fifteen minutes at a time. If she has a dream, I'll get Jasper. _Ma petite poulette va faire dodo dans les bras de sa maman qui la berce doucement. Dodo dinette, dodo, dino…"_

* * *

"How long can she stay this way, Jasper?"

"I have no idea, Mother. Give her time."

"It's been so _long._"

"She always comes out of it when she's ready."

* * *

"Hello…? No, no change…I don't know why, Emmett. Most of the time she doesn't hear any of us. She rarely speaks at all…of course I'll give her your love anyway. Son, have you seen any signs of Victoria or…"

* * *

Sitting up.

Cold around me.

Icy hands over mine.

Pads of my fingers, holding a polish-smooth stick.

Something wide and heavy between my knees, resting on my chest.

Fingertips. Metal strings. Wood.

Cool finger pressing my knuckle down.

Stick sliding.

Loud.

"This is how you play a C-natural, Bella. Do you understand, love? C."

C…

Bow. Slide the bow…

Too loud!

_One plus one equals two, two plus two equals four, four plus four equals eight…_

* * *

"Bella, there's a phone call for you. Would you like to speak to Renee?"

"Who…?"

_So you'll stay with me for a few weeks and then be on the road fifteen days out of every month?_

"…oh. No, thank you."

* * *

"How would you like your steak, Bella?"

_You're supposed to be serving Charlie healthy food._

"I'm not hungry."

* * *

Wicker chair.

Wind.

Fingers braiding my hair.

Pink and grey sky.

Black arrow tips.

Civil War mourning dresses.

Sagging Japanese pagodas.

* * *

"Bella, dear? You don't have to keep cleaning the kitchen, sweetheart."

_I will pull my weight around the house. I will do chores and cook like I did all weekend—you're obviously not going to do it yourself…_

* * *

Plate.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Drying rack.

Fork.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Rack.

Glass…

…_cock-sucking whore bitch! Get back in here!_

Glass.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Rack.

* * *

"Bella? Bella dear, can you hear me...? Bella, I hate to bring this up, but your cycle will begin tomorrow. You can stay here with Carlisle if you want, you can go to a hotel, or you can go back to Charlie's house."

_This means a great deal to me, my dear, having all my family together. I love you all so much._

"I'll stay home, Mom."

* * *

Closet.

Sheet on the floor.

Full length mirror.

Stranger looking at me.

Naked.

Ashen.

Skeletal.

Scarred all over.

Inhuman.

She killed Charlie.

Smash.

* * *

* Esme is singing _Dodo dinette_, a French lullaby. Translation provided by Mama Lisa's World (mamalisa (dot) com): _Sleep, sleepy/ Sleep, sleep/ My little poppet/ Is going to sleep/ In the arms of her mommy/ Who lulls her tenderly./ Sleep, sleepy/ Sleep, sleep._

*Ananke: Greek goddess of necessity, fate, destiny, and inevitability. One source (_Greek Mythology Link _by Carlos Parada, author of _Genealogical Guide to Greek Mythology_) claims she also "presides over all forms of slavery and bonds, starting with the basic necessities of life. Consequently, when someone is cast into prison, or fastened by chains, her name is evoked. For she is behind all bonds, and has a share even in the ties of kinship, friendship and love. She is called Necessity, since once the attachment is established there cannot but follow what necessarily is derived from it, her might allowing no resistance."


	22. Fading Lamb edited

Chapter 22 Fading Lamb

_When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace, and death a duty._

~W. C. Fields

Rust.

"Charlie…she killed…"

Salt.

"…hold your breath!"

_I'm thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself—for him._

"Char…lie…"

Gushing.

"…keep these tourniquets in place while I…"

_I want you to forget him, just like he forgot you._

"…have to use morphine…"

Cold.

_He's not a man, and he doesn't love you._

"…O-negative in my office…"

_He never loved you._

Sticky.

"…missed the femoral arteries, thank God…"

_The derivative of x^2 is…_

Dizzy.

"…have to clean the blood spatter before…"

_The derivative…is…_

"…run the risk of her stitches ripping out if she gets upset. Do you realize what would have happened if she'd broken that mirror while I was _home_? Do you understand what that would do to me, to all of us? We all warned you something like this could happen—"

* * *

"Jasper, you have to do _something_." Cool hand under mine. "She's wasting away."

"What do you expect me to do, Edward? I can't just wave my hand and repair her grief."

"Wake her _up_. She's been in her haze for weeks! This isn't healthy!"

"Maybe that's where she needs to be right now…look at what she did to herself…"

"Please, Jasper, I can't stand it. She hasn't spoken in days."

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Edward. This is about what's best for Bella."

"I _always_ think of what's best for Bella!"

"You refused to let go of your asinine notion of what's in her best interest, and because of that you have _broken_ her over and over again for nearly a year. If she doesn't have any strength left to get through this, it's entirely _your fault._"

_I __**will**_ _break you._

"Please, Jasper. Wake her up. Please…it's like watching her soul drain away right in front of me."

Stinging.

"Don't you _dare_ say one more word to me about her soul. If I don't hear that word out of your mouth again for a thousand years, it'll be too soon. Your ludicrous obsession with a human soul is what started all this suffering. You've torn apart our entire family over your flawed belief system. Every day my wife and my mother sob in each other's arms, Carlisle can barely look at you, and Rosalie and Emmett won't even speak to you anymore." Throbbing. "I hope you're _happy_, Edward; no one else is, that's for certain, least of all Bella."

"Jasper—"

"Get out."

"But Jasper—"

"Get away from my sister, or I will rip your damned head off…"

* * *

"…Miss Swan, you need to let me know if you feel dizzy at all, okay honey?"

"Don't expect a response from her, Brenda…"

* * *

"Don't do this to yourself."

"I've failed her, Esme."

"None of us understood what was really happening."

"I, of all people, should have seen this for what it was."

"Alice was completely fooled by that haze as well. _Alice._"

"That's no excuse. If I'd been home with her more often, I would have known—"

"We didn't have this kind of equipment at home. Even Jasper and Edward thought they were only panic attacks. You couldn't possibly have—"

"Don't you see? This is my fault! I did everything wrong. I should have just…"

* * *

Splash.

"Lift your arms, Bella. I've got you."

"Here's a towel for her, Mother."

"Thank you, Rose."

"…I told him months ago. I _told_ him—"

"I _know,_ we all know. You weren't the only one."

"Now _they _have found out—"

"Rosalie, stop. We can't go back and undo it."

* * *

"Shouldn't we call Renee?"

"It would be wrong not to—"

Buzzing.

"I was speaking to Esme and Alice, _thank you_ very much. Keep your mouth—"

"Stop, Jazz. Much as I hate to admit it, he's right this time. Involving Renee will exacerbate the problem. Bella doesn't need that kind of stress."

* * *

"Bella, please, you have to eat something."

Blink.

"At least drink some water."

Blink.

"Please."

What for?

* * *

"Bella, it's Carlisle. Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Nod.

"I've just been…contacted…by the pack. We know Jacob wants to alter the treaty, but Sam won't allow it. He believes it's too much of a risk."

Sigh.

"We talked about it, and I came to a decision: I don't care about the treaty anymore."

Inhale.

My family.

They would kill my family.

"It's not safe to move you right now, but we can run away before any serious fighting."

Grit my teeth.

"Would you like me to try to change you, Bella?"

Shake my head.

"Are you certain?"

Nod.

_I protect my family._

The only thing I could do.

"Bella, you're crying…"

The very last thing.

* * *

"Are you sure, Alice?"

"Yes…no…the haze doesn't just numb her emotionally, it also slows down her whole system—"

"We _know_ that already. I need to know if we have enough time for her to acclimate to the daily medi—"

"My _point_ is: either that aspect of the fugue is failing, or she keeps waking up from it randomly, and I've never been able to predict _that_ more than a few seconds in advance, sometimes not at all if she doesn't change what she's physically doing. But I think…"

Fluttering.

"Oh God…Carlisle!"

"I'm starting her on a second dose, but it takes ten minutes through the IV drip."

Dizzy.

"Can't you just use the—?"

"Not like this! It could kill her!"

Pounding.

"Jasper!"

Hands.

Calm.

"You need to count, Bella. Help us out while the meds start to work. Count with me. One plus one is two. Two plus one is three. Three plus one is four. Four plus one is five."

_Five plus one is six._

"Good girl."

_Six plus one is seven._

A cool kiss on my head. _Dad._

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

_Seven plus one is eight._

"Alice, are you _sure_?"

_Eight minus one is seven._

"Yes, Carlisle. I'm sure."

_I love you…_

* * *

Trees.

Lost.

Pain.

Blood.

Pine needles.

Fall.

Empty.

Alone.

Infinite.

White.

Agony.

Clutch.

Groan.

Cold hand.

"Go to sleep, Bella."

Black…

* * *

"Carlisle? She's wrong. Tell her she's _wrong, _Father. She's been wrong about everything else."

"I'm sorry, son. The cocaine, all that voltage…there's too much damage."

_The only thing in my existence worth protecting, and I broke you…_

"Please let me see her, Alice."

"Damn you, Edward. Damn you for what you've done to her…and damn me, too."

_All of this hell you're going through is my doing, and instead of setting things right I'm making everything worse._

"Mom?"

"You will not hurt my daughter anymore."

_Bella, no one is going to hurt you. I promised, remember?_

"Rose?"

"You disgust me, you sadistic bastard. I _hate _you."

_I love you too much to sentence you to a half-life like mine._

"Emmett, please."

"To hell with you. Leave her alone."

_I won't leave you, I swear. I will never abandon you again._

"Jasper, _please_ let me in. I have to be with her."

"Why should I, you selfish son of a bitch?"

_I can't exist without you._

Cry.

"She needs me. Please."

Growling. "Fine. She wanted just one day of peace before she died, Edward. You owe her that much."

_The way I feel about you overpowers everything else…_


	23. Swan Song

**I got a wide variety of speculations for chapter 22. Allow me to clear up some confusion from the previous chapter so that you have a better understanding of this one.  
1. I wrote this story in novel format, not serial format. Therefore, it would be extremely helpful if you reread this fic from beginning so that you can see all the clues I've layed out. Pay special attention to chapters 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, and 18.  
2. Bella is dying of medical complications related to the abuse she received. (Carlisle mentions cocaine and voltage. That's a pretty big clue.)  
3. Bella knows she is dying, and she is not fighting it.  
4. Carlisle offered to change her, and she refused. That was her choice, no one else's. The decision is not in Edward's hands.  
5. Jasper can still sense her feelings when she is lucid and can confirm to the rest of the family the emotions behind her decisions.**

_Music: "Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=N9sGd-JLvNA Cue that up to about 2:55._

_Disclaimer: Still don't own the Twilight saga.  
Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, sent messages, and especially those who held my hand through this.  
I promise the next chapter will be much longer._

* * *

Chapter 23 Swan Song

_Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me._

~Ruth 1:17

--------------------------------

Freezing stone arms lovingly wrapped around me.

Humming. Singing.

_What's the last thing you remember?_

A butterfly's wing passing across my face.

"Bella, my love, can you hear me?"

_I own you, Miss Swan._

Ripping.

"They told me…that this is what you wanted. That you refused…that you're ready to go."

_Everything I say is written in stone._

Slicing.

"I'm sorry for what I've done to you."

_I __**will**_ _break you. I will burn you alive._

Singeing.

"I won't hurt you anymore."

_Edward Cullen. It hurts when I say his name, doesn't it? Tell me where it hurts._

Stabbing.

"I'll join you as soon as I can."

_You'll never see him again._

Stones.

"I think Jasper and Emmett will help me now."

_He doesn't love you._

Dagger words. Fire stones.

"My beautiful Bella."

_He never loved you._

Baking. Shredding. Gushing.

"I love you."

_You'll never be loved again._

Slashing. Scalding. Throbbing.

Hiss.

"Bella?"

_You're a useless toy. You're worthless._

Scorching. Hacking. Flaming.

Clench.

"Bella!"

_You're never going home._

Gouging. Searing. Spurting.

Moan.

"Please wake up."

_You're going to die here._

Severing. Maiming. Mutilating.

Squirm.

"Tell me what to do."

_There's nothing left to hold onto._

Desiccating, slaughtering, roasting, carving away everything about me that was ever alive, was ever _human_, bit by bit, piece by piece, love by love.

Writhe.

"Please, Bella."

_There's no reason left to be alive._

"I don't want you to die."

Scream.

"_Kill me!_"

Racing.

Ice hand on my face.

"Bella—"

Door slamming.

"What are you doing to her?"

"Did you _bite_ her?"

"No! I just—"

Grab the hand.

Pull it to my burning chest.

"_Please! _Kill me!"

Spiraling.

"Get away from her, Edward!"

Pull the face to my throat.

Whisper.

"Kill me. Take my blood, take it _all_."

Falling.

"What is she—?"

"It's the same thing she told me when I brought her home from—"

Tear away my clothes.

Must rip out the stones.

"Jazz, _run_!"

Claw into my flesh.

"Get him out of here, Alice!"

Tiny slices in my skin—

"Bella, no!"

Iron manacle gently grasping my wrists.

Cold body covering my blistered, jagged, bleeding hole.

"Stop! Please don't hurt yourself."

Destroy me.

Please.

Help me die.

"Bella, I promise, I swear, I'll never hurt you again. I was wrong about everything, Bella; I was stupid and selfish. Please, my love, forgive me. I'll do anything you want!"

Sob.

Murmur.

"_Save me._"

End this.

"I love you, Bella."

Skin.

Tingle.

Spark.

"You're my life, my soul mate, my everything. The _only_ thing."

Fingers.

Chest.

Current.

Flowing.

"I will love you always. Every minute of every day of every century. As long as you want me."

Breathe in.

Cool, sweet breath.

No fire.

Peace.

"I want you beside me as long as I live."

Pulsing.

Rhythmic.

Painless.

Whole.

"Forever."

Blurry shape.

Bronze hair.

White skin.

Black eyes.

Devotion.

The angel.

_Glorious._

"Edward?"


	24. Trust edited

Chapter 24 Trust

_This moment contains all moments._

~C.S. Lewis

_Standing orders had been lovingly given, punctuated with a paternal kiss on my forehead: 'no strenuous exercise, no skipping meals or medication dosages, no excitement of any kind, don't make any major decisions right now, rest as often as needed, report any symptoms or side effects immediately, and stay out of direct sunlight until the photosensitivity from the old meds wears off.' There's a time for defiance, but when your life is at stake and you realize you do, in fact, want to keep it, you pick your battles. You don't question a medical miracle. And you certainly don't do anything to jeopardize it._

_I sat on the iron bed, perched among the golden bedclothes, ear buds humming away in my ears, a tray of the remnants of mostly devoured fruit and bread rolls on a small, portable table nearby. Several days had passed since my most terrible dream and most powerful awakening. There were very few things I could do entirely on my own—even waking from my nightmares required the assistance of at least half the family. I'd recovered enough strength to be able to walk again, though I needed help if I wanted to take the stairs or spend longer than twenty minutes on my feet. Today I'd taken my pills and vitamins, had help taking a bath, gotten dressed, and had all the rest and nourishment I wanted. The steel shutters were open, letting in dim, gray light from the darkly overcast sky, but the glass pane was still closed. I sat in my gilded cage, eyes closed, listening to my music, rocking, rocking, like a flickering candle flame, letting the flow of the song and the feeling of my own motion wash over me, give me peace, grant me strength, renew my mind, patch up my heart._

_I kept my eyes shut as I did this, seeing my dad's face behind my eyelids, not in his worst moments, but in his best, picking me up when I was a small child and lifting me to the sky, telling me what a beautiful girl I was, applying peroxide water, ointment, and a bandage to a badly scraped knee, praising me when I proved my natural aptitude with a rifle, teaching me how to swim in the lake, coming to the hospital in Phoenix for my appendectomy, quietly building a sandcastle version of the nearby sea arches with me on vacation in San Diego._

_My mind placed Edward in the background of all these memories. Sometimes he brooded silently, disapproving of any instance of my ineptitude causing injury. Other times he smiled and laughed along with me, wishing only for my happiness. He never joined in, only stood watchfully, my guardian, my keeper, loving me in his own way, the way he deemed safest and best._

"_Edward," I called quietly, knowing without seeing that he and Esme were at the doorway, their quiet love and curiosity palpable from across the room. "I'm ready to see Charlie now."_

"_Bella," Edward replied hesitantly the moment my ears were unobstructed, "how much do you remember?"_

_My eyes flashed open, and I was not a caged bird. I was not a caged anything. I was on _my_ bed, in _my_ room, in _my_ home, the rooms filled with _my_ family. There was no cage. There were no rules. There were no keepers. There was Edward, there was me, and there was a wide open sky before us. I was as free as I chose to be._

"_Take me to my father's grave," I demanded. "Now."_

* * *

"Alice, I'm begging you, give it a rest!"

Today had been a long day, visiting the cemetery again, collecting the last few things from Charlie's house (which mostly entailed sitting on a lawn chair while someone else did the lifting), and giving my old key to the realtor as I signed the closing papers, thus concluding the last of my human affairs in Forks. And there was talking, too. Edward and I were doing a lot more talking over the last few weeks, and listening. About all kinds of things. Choices. Charlie. School. The nature of souls. Manipulation. Rejection. Forgiveness. Justice. Bowing versus pizzicato. What I should expect in my first year as a vampire. Whether I still _wanted_ to be a vampire. Why I'd wanted to die. Jasper often mediated these conversations (which sometimes turned into arguments), but more and more often Edward and I were being left to our own devices. I still couldn't say that things were perfect. But then, nothing in this world ever is. The important part was to keep trying. Together.

And, of course, Alice could be counted on to make life interesting.

From the moment I exited the Volvo, I had been taken hostage by this tiny, tornado-like force of nature. She'd been careful with me, of course, telling me every move she was going to make before she made it so I wouldn't freak out. I had not been allowed to see anything downstairs, so that meant I had to tie a blindfold around my own eyes and allow Alice to carry me to her bathroom rather than walk up the stairs on my own two feet like I had this morning. I'd only just been able to detect a hint of some floral scent before being whisked up to Alice's personal torture chamber. I'd sighed when I saw the plethora of products arranged on her counter and tapped my foot impatiently when she promised to keep the make-up "within reason" before hurrying me into the shower.

In direct contradiction to her urgency, she'd let me have as much time in the shower as I needed, allowing me time to wash away the difficulty of the day's events. This was a relatively new technique for me, though it felt like I'd been doing it all my life—one-pointed meditation, something I'd been reading in a book, and thus far the most effective, non-invasive form of therapy I'd tried. For this small, important part of my daily routine, I didn't dwell on all the mistakes Edward and I had made—and I'd made plenty of bad decisions all on my own—in our short-sighted attempts to fix me and keep everything and everyone else afloat at the same time. I focused on my breathing and let the hot water cascade over me, the trickling heat aiding in my relaxation, helping me control my mind and body in much the same way I was learning to control and channel my burning dreams, that I might find my center, my own private peace. When the worries had melted away, I shut off the water and reached tranquilly for the plush towel.

To my everlasting surprise, Alice had actually allowed me to choose my own dress from a small selection. All the clothes were a vivid shade of red, knee-length, and far too beautiful for me, though Alice claimed I'd look lovely in them, especially now that I'd regained most of my former weight. The primary differences between them were their varying sleeve lengths and necklines. It shocked me that she hadn't already chosen what she'd seen I would want, but perhaps she knew, rather than saw, that being allowed to decide for myself would make me more comfortable. After taking a minute to think it through, I selected a dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. Alice arched her eyebrow at me suggestively, and I felt my skin flush. I didn't think she fully understood my logic. Though I had always tried to avoid looking at my scars—even the new ones from the broken mirror—any more than strictly necessary, this house was the only place where I felt no compunction in allowing _others_ to see them. Everyone knew of them and looked beyond their presence to see me. It was liberation and encouragement and solace all at once.

I had sat patiently through most of the grooming process, the buffing and cleansing and moisturizing and hair conditioning and face painting (Alice surprised me by being true to her word and using only very light make-up). I had allowed her control over nearly every surface of my body, knowing that resistance was futile. My only protest, the one I'd saved, was about the shoes.

"Bella, you're absolutely gorgeous, but you're completely throwing it off without any shoes on."

"But look at them, Alice. I can't walk in spike heels. I'll _fall._ Do you know how long it's been since I've fallen?" Four inch stilettos, indeed. Who did she think she was kidding?

"You have to, Bella, or else—" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going blank for a quick second. Then she sighed loudly in vexation. "Fine. Have it your way. But I'm telling you, it won't look right."

"Thank you, Alice," I said with relief. "Now, am I done?"

Alice's eyes swept over me appraisingly. "You'll do nicely."

I rolled my eyes. "So long as you're happy with your work, I guess."

At last Alice allowed me to walk down the stairs under my own power.

The scent hit me before the scenery. Lavender, lilacs, freesia, and roses, with a hint of lemon basil. Powerful and comforting. I sauntered down the sweeping staircase, my eyes taking in the dozens of crystal vases spread out around the walls of the room. There were none in the center where I might run into them, for which I was grateful. No, center stage was for something resplendent and infinitely more alluring.

Edward, in a dark, handsomely made suit that perfectly accentuated his pale angel's beauty.

Barefoot.

Sheer delight blossomed across my face and through my body, a mirror of his reaction to me. I floated to him, fixated by the way his caramel gold eyes glistened just so in his striking face. Nothing in the world could own my heart as completely as this man in this moment.

I barely noticed when someone, Esme or Alice, asked us to pose for a picture, mentioned something about dinner on the table, and wished us a pleasant evening before departing through the rear door.

Taking me into the frame of his arms, Edward danced me across the room, whirling and dipping me to music we could not hear but both somehow felt. It was heaven, it was sunshine, it was joy in motion. I swayed to and fro, laughing in my dizzying happiness, clinging to my anchor. How had I ever _not_ enjoyed this?

Dinner sped by almost without my noticing it; I was completely preoccupied by the look on Edward's face. He seemed to be studying my mouth, watching carefully how each morsel disappeared, how my lips moved. As an experiment, I very slowly licked the protrusion of my upper lip. Edward seemed not to have enough air, his intake of breath was so great.

Edward wanted to play his piano for me, choosing all my favorite pieces, encouraging me to sing with him since I wasn't yet confident enough on my cello, and together we poured our souls into the music, communicating in rises and falls of sound. I requested one song in particular that I'd been practicing during solitary moments, a beautiful, melancholy tune about an angel. It seemed to have been written for us, and my singing it put a strange, unfathomable smile on Edward's face. His eyes crinkled almost sadly at the corners.

When my voice began to tire Edward played my lullaby, and I sat beside him on the bench near tears, it was so lovely. It reached its usual somber end, although I thought I may have been imagining Edward toying with a few new, lighter notes.

I took Edward's hand, interlacing our fingers, and together we rose from the piano bench and tiptoed up the stairs.

I left Edward at our bedroom door so that I could cross the hall to my bathroom and freshen up. After a moment of thought, I removed my watch. I wanted nothing to ruin the perfection of this evening.

I heard the stereo playing the first of a collection of songs we both loved, songs that expressed our love in ways that words could not. Edward's jacket and necktie were thrown across the arm of his couch, while Edward himself sat on the foot of our bed, gazing at me as though I were a diamond or a masterpiece painting. He didn't seem to understand that _he_ was a work of art.

I treaded slowly to his side, taking in every detail of his loveliness. I sat beside him on his left and took his hand again, studying the long, silk fingers.

"Bella," he whispered, "my fragile, exquisite Bella." From the tone of his voice, I knew he was slightly unsure, not wanting to do anything that might possibly upset me in the least. But I was much stronger now.

I smiled, playing with his fingers a little before I looked up at him. "Edward, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

He looked almost afraid, but he nodded silently. I kissed his cheek just once, lingering to send him silent messages.

Using measured, deliberate movements, I reached up to his collar and began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. He shuddered and looked like he might protest, but I held him with my gaze, silently cautioning him to remain as he was. I worked slowly, tugging his shirttails from his waistband to reach the last button. Carefully, I pushed the soft white fabric from his shoulders and down his arms. He understood what I wanted, shrugged off the shirt, and cast it away. His eyes never left mine.

"Hold still," I asked, looking down at his body.

With the lightest pressure my human hands could manage, I delicately grazed his shoulders with my fingertips. Electricity zinged through me, magnified by our dark surroundings. Edward simply sat and watched as I began to explore the lines of his arms, the bend of his elbow, the shape of his wrists. I ran my hands lovingly across his collarbone and stroked his throat, marveling at the marble feel of it. Slowly, slowly, I allowed my hands to travel down the muscled expanse of Edward's chest, tracing every bulge and crevice. His torso heaved under my touch once as he inhaled sharply. A quick glance upward told me he'd closed his eyes and might not open them any time soon. I continued my exploration, sliding my palms across his stone abdomen, enjoying every dip and curve of his musculature. Tilting my head to get a better visual angle, I sent my hands gliding up his sides, making him jump again. I stopped when he moved, watching his face. He took a deep breath, held it a moment, exhaled, and then nodded once.

I resumed my experiment, shifting on the bed so that I could see his back. My fingers flowed across Edward's lower back, trailed up his spine, skimmed across his shoulder blades, cupped the back of his neck. Every inch of him was so wonderful, so strong and beautiful. I wove my fingers into his silken hair and pulled them softly through the disarray.

"Don't move an inch," I murmured. "Promise me."

"I promise, Bella." His reply was so low I barely heard it.

Crawling a little, I situated myself exactly behind Edward, resting on my knees. I placed my hands firmly on the tops of his shoulders, leaned forward, and placed a tender, breathy kiss on the nape of Edward's neck.

"Ah!" he gasped in surprise, but he did not move. I waited for him to calm himself.

More slowly this time, I leaned in again and began to trail soft kisses down the stone path of his spine. Each one sang with electric current, and I paused frequently to remind myself to breathe. I may have spent an hour on this part of my exercise. Edward never flexed a single degree beyond what tension he already possessed.

Shifting back, I removed my hands and scooted and slid around Edward to sit on his left side again. The motion caused the hem of my dress to rise up high on my thighs, but I did not readjust it.

"Edward," I breathed, "I know this is difficult for you. Please, do exactly what I say and do not move."

"Bella, I don't know how much more I can take," he said desperately.

"I know you love me. Please, I need you to let me do this," I begged with equal fervor. "Please."

Edward inhaled deeply, and I wondered if doing so were providing him with relief, pain, or both. After another few seconds he balled up his fists and nodded.

I took a breath. "Put your head back."

He obeyed, his eyes focused on the iron canopy above us.

I grasped the chaotic hair on the back of his head with my right hand and leaned over and cautiously pressed my lips to his exposed throat. I heard him exhale in pleasure, and so I kept kissing him in my slow, careful pace. He continued to breathe quietly, not moving at all except for the rise and fall of his lungs. Feeling safe to proceed, I began to work my way down below his throat and onto his chest.

Edward tensed for a brief part of a second, then relaxed. Whatever he was feeling, he must have decided to go with it rather than resist, or master it in some other way. I paused to evaluate, then persisted. My mouth traveled along his breast bone.

Needing to balance myself, I stopped and said, "Edward, I'm going to put my hand on your leg. Please keep still." He shut his eyes tightly for a second in response, and I rested my left hand on his thigh.

Braced and secure, I returned to my kissing. I moved my mouth in a detour across Edward's smooth, marble pectoral muscle. He gasped again, and I wound my fingers more tightly in his hair. I made a wide circle with my lips around the edge of this perfect muscle, swirling into ever-narrowing spirals until finally, happily, I took the tip of his nipple between my lips.

"Bella!" he cried, and I could feel his arms quivering from the strain.

"Edward," I said quietly, pulling my head back. "Do. Not. Move." I gave him all the time he needed to compose himself as much as possible. When he was still again, I bent over and placed new, slow kisses further down his granite torso, along his rib cage, across his rigid abdominal muscles, even-paced and adoring every part at every moment. His tension was too great, however, for me to do more than this tonight. I lifted my head, balanced myself carefully beside his stone figure, and released him. My exercise was complete.

"You can move now, but please move slowly."

He didn't deviate an inch. His face remained exactly as it had been, turned up to the heavens. I waited, counting the seconds in my head. One hundred seconds later, and he had not moved except to take shallow breaths.

"Edward?"

He blinked.

"Edward," I said, growing concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I have no idea," he muttered. He didn't _sound_ distressed, but I could have been mistaken—I was thoroughly confused.

"I'm sorry," I said, beginning to panic. "I didn't mean to upset you, I just—"

"Stop," Edward said, his bright eyes shifting to my face. "Don't speak. Give me another minute."

I sat in silence, not quite as still as a statue but more than motionless enough for a human. Gradually Edward began to straighten his neck and lean forward a little. I watched the movement of his neck in fascination and studied the strange, unfathomable expression on his face.

"What was that?" he finally asked, emphasizing each word slowly and staring at me as if I were a strange, new, enthralling type of mythical creature.

"Sort of a test," I smiled nervously. "For me. To see how I would do with trust and intimacy." _And to see if you'd run again._

"Hmm," Edward murmured. "I see."

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously, second-guessing myself. Clearly I'd pushed too hard. "Was that too much? I'm so sorry, Edward, I—"

"Bella?" he interrupted, sounding thoughtful. "Don't you think your investigation was a bit one-sided?"

I cocked my head to the left. "How do you mean?"

Edward's eyes smoldered at me as he asked, "Shouldn't you see how well you do when _I_ touch _you_?"

I could only nod in agreement. I had no words sufficient to describe the craving I felt for his touch in that moment.

He hesitated a moment, studying my face and body. "Can you stay still for me?" I nodded again, and he smiled a little. "If I do anything at all that you don't like, or if you want me to stop, please tell me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Edward. I trust you."

He smiled again and momentarily closed his eyes, as if I'd given him an amazing thrill. Then he gazed at me once more and began his own exploration. Moving as slow as time itself, he lifted his hand to my face. His icy fingertips brushed across my cheekbone as though it were gossamer. This was a sensation I was familiar with, comfortable experiencing. His fingers never broke contact with my skin as he traced the bridge of my nose, a line on my forehead, the membranes of my eyelids, the edge of my jaw, the point of my chin, the soft path of my lips. It was lighter than a spider treading upon its own web. Edward wanted me to understand that he would not hurt me. I smiled encouragingly and remained immobile.

"I'm going to touch your neck now."

I blinked once in response, still smiling.

The cold heat drifted under my jaw, across my throat, back and forth in swirling motions. I swallowed, reminded myself to breathe, and tried to concentrate on holding still and enjoying the smooth feel of stone as Edward trailed around to the back of my neck and lingered there. His hand traveled up to the clip holding my hair up and released it, flicking it away and letting my hair spill down in waves over his arm and across my back. It surprised me how luxurious this sensation was. He combed his fingers through my hair almost endlessly, twisting and brushing the strands from the top of my head all the way to my waist, then brushed it all away to my left shoulder. His hand tarried there, tracing the bones and sinews, skimming along the thin strap of fabric that held up my dress. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feeling of these strangely tender icicles roaming across my shoulder blades and tapping delicately up and down my spine as though the vertebrae were piano keys.

Edward pulled his hand back down to hold my waist, and with his free hand he reached over and drew his wintry fingertips across my collar bone. I inhaled deeply, taking in more of his scent and forgetting everything but the hum of life-giving electricity that joined us.

"Breathe, Bella. Don't move."

It took me a minute to focus, but I did finally force myself to time my breaths with the music in the background. I grasped the bedcovers in my fists and willed myself back into stillness.

Edward stretched his hand and rested his icy palm across my chest. Fire raced across my skin, red and voluptuous and wonderful, and I felt my heart pick up speed and my chest heave. It took every ounce of concentration not to pull my body to him. I may have spoken, but I did not know what I said; I couldn't allow my attention to be diverted from the tremendous task of not spontaneously combusting.

Edward pulled his hand away, and a strange kind of tortured loss lingered where he'd touched me. I wanted to cry.

"Bella, may I touch you again?" His voice was uneven.

"Yes," I breathed shakily. "Please." I bit my lip.

Using only his index finger, Edward traced my shoulder strap again, along the front this time. I knew that it would take only a tiny flick for him to tear it away, but I did not fear this. Instead I focused on the glacial pace and temperature of his fingertip as it slid all the way down to the low neckline of my dress.

"Beautiful," Edward said almost worshipfully as he caressed the swell of my breasts. I struggled, trembling and breathing erratically, cherishing every millimeter of the trail of electric passion his touch left in its wake as he stroked my curves fervently, reverently, as if they might be the Holy Grail itself.

"Edward!" I heard myself call out joyfully. I wasn't sure if I'd already exploded, or if I was about to. He froze, his fingertip remaining just at the midpoint over my right breast.

"Are you alright?" he asked, slightly nervous, as he pulled his hands away.

I could only smile delightedly and nod.

"Was that too much?" he wanted to know, anxious now.

"Amazing," I managed to reply. I opened my eyes and gazed at him, trying to regain control of my lungs. There was nothing else anywhere, ever, in the whole history of the world, in the whole of my mind, but Edward. "Kiss me," I begged.

Edward slowly reached across his lap and mine, gently holding on to the flesh of my still-exposed left thigh. I lifted one arm and wrapped it around his cold neck. He leaned into me, and all I saw were two perfect lips parting to join mine as the taste of heaven rushed to meet me.

Enchantment.

Exultation.

Honey.

Symphony.

Poetry.

Rodin's sculpture, _The Kiss._

Paradise.

Strange, I thought, how love was suddenly almost tangible. I may have sat there with him for an instant or an eon; I was so awash with the power of this incredible sensation. It poured through me, flowed over me, completely overwhelmed us both.

_Warmth._

I soared in Edward's embrace, weightless and free, complete and blissful like I'd never been in my life.

"Marry me, Bella."

I pulled my head back to gaze at him, not certain I'd heard him properly. I smiled quizzically at him and tilted my head.

"Be my wife. Please."

His voice was soft, tender, and completely sincere. I studied his eyes a moment, silver in the moonlight and luminous with love. "You're serious," I said uncertainly.

His angel face shone so brightly in the near darkness it was almost a light unto itself. "I love you, Bella. I will never love anything in this world more than you, not if I live a hundred centuries. You are the only thing that matters in the whole of my universe, and I will be yours forever. Please, my sweet, sublime, beloved Bella. Will you marry me?"

I reached up to touch his glorious features with my free hand. I examined every plane and angle, every sparkle of his eyes, every miniscule movement, every tiny bit of the man I loved. There was no heaven greater than to be with him like this for eternity.

"Yes, Edward. I will marry you."

* * *

Edward and I were dancing, spinning, whirling across a beautiful, brilliant blue ocean, laughing like pealing bells, prancing over the swells, waltzing through the waves, twirling in the sun, prismatic light reflecting from our skin and onto each other…

I was lying on my stomach, loosely wrapped in thick chenille, draped across Edward's arm and chest, my legs and blankets twisted and entwined around his limbs. He was humming quietly, playing with strands of my hair as though they were completely captivating.

"Mmm," I murmured happily, my eyes still closed. "Good morning." I wiggled my arm around until it found a way out of the cocoon and onto Edward's cool, bare chest. I slid my palm over the lines of his collarbone and curled my hand around his neck.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered back contentedly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Most peaceful night's sleep I've had in ages," I answered softly. "I had the most wonderful dream."

"I could tell," he replied. "You said fascinating things."

"Did I?" I asked, amused. "Like what?"

"Something about rainbows," he said quietly, caressing my cheek, "and the sea, and—"

But he didn't finish; our mouths were suddenly occupied.

"So," he said when my breathing returned to normal, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" I asked dreamily as I tucked my head under his chin.

"Last night," he answered, sounding troubled and insecure, "when you said you'd marry me. You remember that, don't you?"

I laughed quietly. "Of course I do, you silly vampire. Why do you think I'm so euphoric?"

"Truly?" he marveled. "You're certain? You really do want to marry me?"

"You seem surprised," I observed, resting my elbow on his shoulder and propping my chin up on my hand. "Did you expect me to take it back?"

"It's just that…" he struggled. "The way you've always spoken of your parents' marriages, it seemed like you weren't really impressed with the institution yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, when you call it an institution, who's going to think much of it in the first place?"

"Bella," he chided, tapping my nose lightly. "Be serious, please."

I sighed and shrugged a little. "I really wasn't interested in marriage, at least not at this age; in fact I was afraid of the very notion of matrimony for years. It always seemed like something young people did because they thought they were supposed to, or because they were in love with weddings, or because they didn't know what else to do with their lives, and not because they'd actually thought it through. Renee drilled into me that it was this big, serious thing that should only be attempted by people in their thirties with stable lives and the capacity for commitment. She said she never regretted marrying Charlie because it resulted in my existence, but she always acted as though being married to him was hell.

"Really, that was the result of her never knowing what she wanted from life. She wasn't able to handle a lifetime commitment at my age, and she always spoke as though no one else could, either. That, however, was her own issue with marriage. It doesn't surprise me that she felt she wasn't mature enough to handle being a wife; she wasn't mature enough to handle paying the utilities by the due date or even being a parent half the time. It was a shock to me when she agreed to marry Phil in her mid-thirties. Her marriages were never like our family's unions.

"As for myself, I'm aware of what a commitment marriage is, and I'm not afraid of it anymore. Compared to an eternal covenant with an immortal, her idea of a human marriage is almost funny. Perhaps if life had worked out differently for me, I might have resisted your proposal, though I can't see what the point would be in refusing if I want to be with you forever either way. But that would have been another Bella, one with a multitude of good, little, inconsequential things in her life and no wish to rock the boat and upset the balance. As I am now, I know exactly which things in my life are concrete and which are fleeting, which things are true and which things are just illusions. To me, heaven and hell aren't imaginary places you go when you die—they're the world and the people around you. I've already been to hell, Edward. You're the only heaven I want or need."

Edward's eyes bored into mine, his expression bordering on severe. He encircled me in his arms and kissed my forehead firmly, holding his mouth there for a full minute before sprinkling my head and face with lighter kisses. I kissed him back across his cheeks and lips whenever he let me, and we said nothing more for a long time.

Eventually I began to feel hunger stirring faintly within my stomach. I placed a tiny kiss under Edward's jaw and disentangled myself. My dress was hopelessly wrinkled from sleeping in it all night, and there was no way I was going downstairs like that for the whole family to see when they got home from their brief hunting trip. I shuddered to think what kind of inappropriate comments Emmett would blurt out in his booming voice, so I opted for a quick shower before breakfast.

Unfortunately, breakfast was a bland prospect. Edward had promised me whole wheat cereal and fresh fruit; he wouldn't allow me to have chocolate or steak again, claiming I'd used up my quota for this lifetime and that I'd have plenty of time to get reacquainted with the taste of warm blood in the future, when I actually needed it. In addition to taking responsibility for my new diet and exercise plan, Edward also managed my intake of antiarrhythmia medication, which I ingested on a strict schedule, and kept track of all my vitals. He and Carlisle wanted my heart to be as strong as possible to be sure I would survive my transformation. We weren't entirely sure this was a necessary precaution—after all, some of the family had been much closer to death than I for their changes. But Carlisle was still beating himself up for missing the irregular heartbeat hiding beneath my panic disorder, and he was uncertain enough about the possibility of transformation failure to give me pause, so I went along with it, just in case. Venom wasn't magic potion; it was a chemical, subject to limits. Charlie's arteries had been clogged with plaque, something venom could have burned through given the chance. My heart, on the other hand, had an electrical problem caused by the combination of electrocution and cocaine from St. Vincent's, the condition made all the worse by going untreated for so long and subjecting myself to too much stress, physical labor, and poor eating and sleeping habits. If my heart went into fibrillation again and couldn't pump blood, they'd explained, it couldn't pump venom either. Hence the meds, which seemed to be working out well. They were much less risky than defib paddles and allowed me to live normally rather than relying on my haze to keep my body calm. The only other viable medical alternative was a special pacemaker I was already on a waiting list for, but I didn't want it wasted on me. Somewhere there was a person who needed it more.

I picked up my watch from the bathroom countertop. The family would be home soon, just in time for one last strategy meeting before setting out to deal with Victoria and her army of bloodthirsty newborn vampires. So much had been hidden from me during my long convalescence; so many layers of protection that I hadn't even known about had been revealed to me at last, battles fought without my knowledge, injuries sustained. I couldn't be certain our tenuous new alliance with the wolves would hold beyond the combat we were about to take part in together. Edward declared it a miracle that I'd managed to broker the deal at all, but Sam was easy to compel—he owed me, and we both knew it. I hoped our joint endeavor might garner enough good will to allow my impending conversion to be a non-issue. Not that it would change my decision either way, but I would prefer not to leave Forks just yet if I didn't have to. I wanted my change to take place here, in my own home, if that was possible, and I wanted to be able to return some day without fear of war.

Edward beamed when I appeared at his side in the kitchen, looking at me as though my t-shirt and jeans were every bit as lovely as the dress I'd changed out of. He caressed my cheek with a feather light kiss before leading me to the dining table. I sat up straight, watching him watch me with pure joy in both our hearts. He took my hand, and I was confident that whatever we faced today, we would do so together.

With hope.

* * *

A/N: Some medical info to help you out, if you're interested, but feel free to skip it. Info taken from Wikipedia, WebMD, the Cleveland Clinic, and Anxietypanic (dot) com.

Arrhythmia: General term for abnormal electrical activity in the heart. The heart may beat too fast or too slow, regularly or irregularly, depending on the specific type.

Ventricular Tachycardia (V-Tach or VT): A fast heart rhythm that originates in one of the ventricles of the heart. This is a potentially life-threatening arrhythmia because it may lead to ventricular fibrillation and sudden death. Symptoms include: **palpitations (uncomfortable awareness of the heart beating rapidly or irregularly), dizziness, shortness of breath, chest pain, near-fainting or fainting, weak pulse or no pulse**. VT is diagnosed by performing an electrocardiogram _while the VT is occurring_ to trace the electrical activity of the heart, as well as stress tests, lab tests, X-rays, and an electrophysiology study (heart catheters).

Ventricular Fibrillation: A life-threatening condition in which there is an uncoordinated contraction of the cardiac muscle of the ventricles in the heart, making them tremble rather than contract properly. Should it continue for more than a few seconds, blood circulation will cease, and sudden cardiac death may occur. Such an arrhythmia is undetectable by feeling at major pulse points and is _only confirmed by electrocardiogram._ Must be treated immediately with CPR and defibrillation (electrical shock delivered to the heart).

Panic attack symptoms (just for your reference): trembling, **shortness of breath, heart palpitations, chest pain, **hot flashes, cold flashes, **burning sensations,** sweating, nausea or abdominal stress, **dizziness, light-headedness, near-fainting, **fear, feeling anxious, fear that you're going crazy or about to die. Cardiac conditions that can cause sudden death can also result in panic attacks.


	25. Epilogue: Justice and Mercy

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer still owns these characters.

**Music that inspired me:** "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve, "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby" by Alison Krauss, Gillian Welch, and Emmylou Harris

Note to follow.

* * *

Epilogue: Justice and Mercy

_Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive._

~C.S. Lewis

_They say I laughed when Victoria died, but I can't remember. I know it makes my family nervous, or it did for a while, anyway. My husband is always quick to remind me, and them, that when I learned Sam was killed fighting the newborn war, I mourned him (which I _can_ dimly recall) despite his previous unwillingness to let my life be preserved. I grieved for Sam, for the woman he left behind, and for all the families Victoria destroyed just to get to me; I have never stopped wrestling with the guilt. All those _people_. In retrospect, having rejoiced at the death of their tormentor makes sense to me, in a way. This—tonight—makes sense, too._

Lavender cinder blocks and dark, grey-green doors flew past me as I ghosted through the corridor, too fast for the eyes of the human guards who prowled so slowly from iron door to iron door, watching for a nighttime uprising. My swift steps were invisible and inaudible as I made my way through Unit Four to Cell Block D, Cell Six. There were no cameras for me to worry about in this hundred-thirty-five-year-old building. Washington State Penitentiary, which housed all male death row inmates, was located in Walla Walla, only forty-seven point six two miles from Pasco, of all places—less if one ran in a straight line over rivers and rocky terrain, like I did—and was no more than a few hours' run from my family's former home in Forks, where my husband waited for me now. Jacob had granted us special permission to visit, so long as we weren't seen and didn't stay long.

I paused at the large, solid metal plank. It would easily rip and crumble under my powerful fingertips, but that would be too noisy and would alert the guard far down the hall. He hadn't noticed my presence yet, and I intended to keep it that way—I wanted to take my time.

Quickly, I peered into the small, square, shatterproof glass window placed high in the center that was just large enough for the inmate to see my face if he wanted. His snores were a chorus of chainsaws to my ears, the loudest of thousands. Thanks to the traumatic stress that had altered me physically in my human life, I now had better hearing than most vampires, my blessing and my curse, one of many such double-edged gifts. Certainly it was the one I had the least control over, though at least it wasn't the most painful.

Once, before anyone realized the true extent of my auditory range, I'd overheard the others speculating that suffering PTSD had made me feel less human to begin with, so becoming a vampire was just the next natural step. That enjoying blood back then was all in my head, as were a lot of the things I did, like I'd tried to make myself a vampire in my mind, since the bad guys in my world were humans. A combination of manifestations of a damaged psyche and traits that I'd acquired to survive the hell I'd been thrust into, things I couldn't unlearn after getting out.

Now I viewed vampiric vegetarian feeding the same way I'd once viewed most normal human meals—just something I had to do to survive. So it was no wonder I hunted the way I did; not as a growling tigress like I'd always imagined, but as a bird of prey, the arctic owl that patiently tracks lemmings in the snow with sonar and glides in swiftly and silently. What was the point of deliberately stalking or toying with my food, anyway? It didn't make it taste any better, didn't make the experience more enriching, and to be honest, the emotionless efficiency was a nice break from having to _feel_ so much all the time.

My brother tended to agree, actually, and often hunted with me for that reason. He was like me—we weren't bad people, and we didn't hate humans; we just hated pretending. Fidgeting, slouching, blinking deliberately—it was silly and we all knew it. Movements didn't tie us to the remnants of our humanity; love did. And I've _always_ loved my family.

Mentally shaking off my momentary reflection and allowing myself one deep breath of better-ventilated, comparatively clean air, I eased my stolen key into the lock, making sure to support the door so that the hinges wouldn't issue any grinding sounds, and stole quietly into the cell, taking care to pull the door a few micrometers shy of locking up completely. I slid the key into my right pocket where my knife had once resided before I'd crushed it to dust. My wedding ring was already carefully tucked away in my left pocket.

The room held only one small bed, a stainless steel, industrial grade toilet and sink, and what passed for a human. I held my breath, kept both hands behind my back, and glared down at my prey.

Male. Dirty blonde. Eyelids that hid blue irises. Large build that didn't seem so intimidating anymore. Bright orange jumpsuit, crimson now in the color of night. His pulse throbbed at me, a baseline to his rumbling breath, singing with promises of a hot, wet, delicious quenching of the dull ache in my throat. I examined his dry, disgusting lips. Even through my murky human memories, I remembered his boiling breaths and slimy tongue on my skin with perfect clarity. Revolting.

I tilted my head to the side, considering him from another angle. Even in the dark, he seemed paler than I recalled, as if he never saw even the hint of the sun anymore. There were scars I didn't remember on his wrists: handcuff marks, I realized. He must have been restrained with far more force than was necessary many times over. Remembering my own experience, I couldn't make myself feel one jot of pity for this.

His body, I noted, seemed weaker for more reasons than my knowledge of my own strength. Though my indelible visions of him from before were unclear to these eyes, I could ascertain that he was in fact visibly thinner, less muscular, more haggard even in his state of rest. The bags under his eyes, which would have been purple in daylight, were now almost black. I wondered what he dreamed about in such a grim place, whether he suffered from nightmares or had anything that resembled a comforting memory to revisit, and I wished he would speak in his sleep as I once had.

How had this pathetic, impotent human ever held such power over me?

"_Jimmy_," I hissed into the darkness, my voice carefully modulated so that only he would hear it. He wouldn't be able to make out more than my silhouette in the dim light seeping through the window of his door, and there were no windows at all on the concrete walls of his tiny, grey-white room. He woke with a start; a light sleeper, though whether he had always been so or had learned the behavior after six years in a private hell, I could only guess.

"Wh-who's there?" He backed away into the far corner of his bed, clutching his rough, grey blanket as though it were the closest thing he had to a teddy bear.

"Hello, darlin'. I haven't seen you in ages," I toyed, remaining perfectly motionless.

Jimmy gasped in awe, though not recognition. "Who are you?"

"What's the matter, Jimmy? Don't you remember me?" My serene Waterford crystal voice rang across the empty space. And that was it for my air supply. I would have to breathe.

He inhaled almost greedily and held his breath, waiting.

Cautiously, keeping my muscles locked into place in a practiced habit, I allowed the air to flow through my lungs.

_Ahh!_

His delicious stench saturated the room, though thankfully he did not have many possessions that held the concentrated scent. Evidently Jimmy didn't shower as often as most humans and spent nearly all his time in this cell. The familiar heat of white fire flashed across my throat, brighter and more vivid than I'd known in a long while. Baking, dry, parched as I suddenly felt, Jimmy's sweet blood was almost irresistible. Almost.

"I can't see you," Jimmy answered. Barely two seconds had passed.

Calculating the angle of the light, I stepped silently to the right and pivoted, exposing my shocking white face. He would only just be able to make out the buttercream gold in my eyes. I smiled my most dazzling smile, and I knew now that it truly _was_ dazzling. I wondered if he would react as most humans did, with bumbling incoherence.

His response surprised me.

"Are you an angel?"

I blinked so rapidly he would not have seen it, and felt my already tense muscles clench further. Of all the fantasies in my morbid daydreams of this moment, this possibility had never occurred to me.

This monster thought _I_ was an angel. _His_ angel.

And I supposed tonight I was.

Of a sort.

"Not quite. But I did come for you," I replied musically.

He waited, his breath coming faster as he stared at my glowing, marble skin, his distress both delectable and distressing to my fine tuned senses. I had to be careful about that. A double helix of any emotion, especially agony—spiraling, my brother called it—was very easy to drown in. It had taken a long time to learn to pull back without my haze to protect me anymore.

"So I hear prison hasn't been quite the vacation you might have imagined," I soothed, putting Jimmy slightly at ease even as I teased him. He'd been hoping for a nice, cushy mental facility, if his failed insanity plea was any indicator. "I understand the guards are particularly brutal." Apparently Charlie and Deputy Mark, now Chief Mark Anderson, had friends within the Washington State Department of Corrections, too. Forty counts of aggravated assault, thirty-two counts of aggravated sexual assault, and three counts of murder would have been enough to piss anyone off, but when one of the unreported victims was a lawman's daughter…

"Yeah," he breathed. "Pete got off easy."

Ah, McCoig. After being convicted of a dizzying eighty-five counts of aggravated assault and ninety-three counts of various drug charges, participating in abuse and unethical conduct within a mental health facility against patients entrusted to his care, and suffering the comparatively minor insult of having his license to practice psychiatric medicine revoked and his title and position stripped away, Peter McCoig had fallen victim to a massive stroke in his prison cell one night. His cellmate slept through the entire ordeal, letting valuable minutes of life-preserving time slip by. Pete had remained in a vegetative state for six weeks before finally passing away in a filthy infirmary.

"You could say that," I allowed—Pete hadn't burned at all.

I stood unnaturally frozen, an unblinking, golden-eyed statue, waiting for Jimmy to speak.

"So who are you?" Jimmy wondered once more, uncomfortable with my immobile stance.

"You really don't remember me, Jimmy?" I asked, smiling again. The last time he'd seen me I was nearly as pale but not beautiful, and most certainly not the one in control.

"No, I've never…seen…" he trailed off, lost in my slow, rhythmic movements as I let the light splay across my face in new ways, accentuating the set of my lips.

"I'm disappointed, little one. I thought you'd be waiting for me," I sang with mock petulance. I lowered the pitch of my voice until it sounded closer to my old human tones. "I'm the one that got away."

His shocked, horrified gasp filled the air, and his pupils almost completely blacked out the blue of his frightened eyes. "You…" he murmured.

"Yes, Jimmy. Me." I glared at him, just enough to scare him a little, but nowhere close to my full vampire capacity for eliciting terror. I didn't want him to scream.

"Bella Swan? How? How did you…? You vanished! Four days we searched for you, even in the ventilation shafts! Pete couldn't find your file, and then one day he told me to stop looking, that you were dead…" Jimmy dribbled into mutters and then silence. He covered his mouth with his blanket.

"He was quite right," I replied calmly, forcing myself not to cross the room yet. "I _was_ dead. Bella Swan died that night. You helped kill her."

He moaned, reexamining my now flawless, unblemished, alabaster skin, and his eyes were full of new understanding.

"I came back for you, Jimmy," I said softly. "I have something for you."

"Oh god," he whispered, closing his eyes. "You're gonna kill me, aren't you?"

And within the infinite space of one moment, that was exactly what I wanted to do. To drain away the blood of this pitiful, disgusting, perverse abomination of a human being. To take his life, just as he had taken mine.

I suddenly pictured my mother, so gentle and sweet, who had nursed me to health all those long months and loved me selflessly in ways I'd never experienced before.

I vaguely remembered my human mother, who despite all her self-centered silliness really did love me in her own way. I had only seen her twice since leaving St. Vincent's: once at my wedding, and again in secret, while she slept, when she came to my funeral.

I thought of my fathers, both of them, loving and protective in their own unique ways, who wanted only good things for me, though they may have differed in their opinions of what constituted "good."

I saw my whole family, sisters and brothers and parents and husband, the sacrifices they had made for me and I for them, their loving smiles, the way we cherished each other, the battles we'd fought to keep each other safe and protected.

I envisioned Edward. Edward, my beautiful, kind, flawed soul mate, his kisses like spring rain in the moonlight, and the look on his face if I came home with eyes blazing crimson for the first time in years: sad, understanding, loving. We were trying to be happy and succeeding up to a point, but these had been long years for us, especially the last few. He was unfailingly patient and supportive through it all, blaming himself for not changing me sooner, before I had a chance to remember everything. Not a word had passed between us about my plans, but this evening, when I'd told Edward I was going to pay my respect to my father alone, his unspoken reaction was loud and clear. He would be at his old piano right now, staring longingly at my favorite cello nearby, conjuring up the sounds of our musical lovemaking, losing himself in the notes and chords, hoping to play away all his fears and worries.

Playing my lullaby.

The sweet notes floated across my memory, piano strikes and gentle humming, honey-lilac-and-sunshine breath, the lilting voice of my own glorious angel, singing away all the hate and fury that had poisoned me and made me wish to be a killer, leaving only peace in the wake.

All my plans and impulses blew away in the lightest imaginary breeze.

"No, Jimmy," was my tranquil reply a fraction of a second later. "I came to do something infinitely more difficult for my kind. I came to forgive you."

"To…f-forgive? I don't understand," he stammered. I could smell his pheromones fluctuating as he wavered between fear and disbelief.

"No, I don't expect you would," I spoke into the noisy quiet. "I'm not doing it for you."

I gazed at his confused face for two impossibly long seconds before I flowed back toward the door, smoke on water, my fists still hidden behind my back as I focused my hearing to listen for footsteps or a pulse echoing in the hall.

"Wait!" he cried, stretching forth his hand and dropping his blanket from his face, a different kind of fear clouding the air now. I froze, eyeing him with curiosity. What would this worthless creature want? What did he think he had any right to ask for?

"Please," he begged, his eyes welling up with unexpected tears, "kill me."

Though I had in fact come here intent on doing exactly that, it was still a shock to hear Jimmy plead for it when I hadn't even touched him.

"You don't know what it's like in here," he continued in desperation when I didn't answer or comply. "They've been issued tasers now, and metal rods. They do terrible things to me every day, and it never ends."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and my face contorted into black fury. Still, I forced myself not to snarl at him like the feral animal he and Pete had conditioned me to be all those years ago.

"Oh god," he backpedaled rapidly, all the blood draining from his face when he saw mine, "oh god, you're right, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

I remained locked in place, considering him, calculating.

Though Jimmy and many others were on death row, no executions had actually been carried out in the state of Washington since 2001, well over a decade ago. With the strengthening death penalty abolitionist movement coinciding with an escalation in increasingly atrocious crimes that demanded harsh punishment, it seemed the issue was at a stalemate. Jimmy might well sit here suffering for the next twenty years and be brutalized as long as there were guards who remembered what he'd done to me and countless other women.

"You deserve it, you know," I reminded him.

"I know." Jimmy looked down at the floor, hopeless and miserable. "I just want this to end."

How well I knew that feeling.

"No fight left in you, then?" I asked, not meaning to taunt him but doing so just the same.

"No, ma'am," Jimmy answered in submission.

I tilted my head again, examining the frailty that was suddenly so obvious to me.

"In that case," I finally told him, "I've got something special for you."

His dim, dead, blue eyes rose up to meet my gold-tinged ones. I skipped to his side, moving just a fraction faster than a human pace. Still, it was enough to surprise him. He twitched.

"I wasn't entirely sure I was going to do this," I murmured gently, "but I came prepared, just in case."

I lowered my granite, freezing face to his soft, warm one and slid my icy right hand into his unkempt hair. The heat of his leather-soft scalp throbbed against my firm fingers. So tempting.

"Will it hurt?" Jimmy asked, eyes wide with wonder as he took in my immortal form and cool touch.

"Most likely," I said honestly. "But you might get lucky."

He shut his eyes, held his breath for five long seconds, and exhaled his hot, disgusting, delicious breath in my airway. My throat blazed in response, and venom flooded my mouth. Jimmy nodded and looked back up at me. "I'm ready."

I drew my left fist from behind my back and painstakingly eased open one finger at a time.

"What is it?" he asked in awe.

"Special K, charlie, and angel dust," I answered in my melodious, wineglass watersong voice.

He looked back up at me, afraid.

"Just think of it as a mercy cocktail," I sang peacefully with a reassuring, compassionate smile, listening to the pleasant melody of his heart.

Using my gentlest, most delicate pressure, I eased his face forward to my cupped palm. His eyes held fast to mine, blue gazing up into black.

"Thank you," Jimmy whispered reverently.

Carefully, with absolute control, I blew into his face.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Special K, charlie, and angel dust = ketamine, cocaine, and PCP._

_A tremendous thanks to Shari, Sherry, and Jeanette for their unwavering support as I created this story. Love to everyone who read, reviewed, and cared about these characters enough to follow them on this journey. Thank you so much for reading my little corner of the universe._

_As some of you will no doubt point out, though I did give Bella and the plot a sense of closure, I was vague about certain story elements. My reason for this is: I am writing another version of this story, from Edward's perspective, and I wanted to save some observations and conversations for his point of view. Sadly, it is not ready to be published at present. If you're interested in seeing Edward's point of view, please put me on Author Alert and be on the lookout for "Angels and Devils." I hope to have it ready within a few months. (Don't freak out. I started writing Fate back in October, and here it is, nearly September.) Expect a few other Twilight fanfiction projects from me in the interim._

_I leave you with all my gratitude and appreciation._

_--nosleep3, a.k.a. Chelleybell_

* * *

Character test: ĆŦ, ĆÁL̵ NE C̸ K̵ W̱


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